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LYRICS  AND  BALLADS 

OF 

HEINE 

AND  OTHER  GERMAN  POETS 

TRANSLATED  BY 

FRANCES   HELLMAN 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW   YORK  LONDON 

27  West  Twenty-third  Street  24  Bedford  Street,  Strand 


She  liuicktrbockcr  jgrcss 
1892 


Copyright,  1892,  by 

FRANCES   HELLMAN 

Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 

BY  Frances  Hellman 


Printed  and  Bound  by 

-Cbe  Tknicherbocfter  press,  mew  Jgork 
G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 


TO    MY   MOTHER 


428240 


CONTENTS 


HEINE 

PAGE 

Prologue 

Vorrede 3 

DREAM    PICTURES  TRAUMBILDER 

In  Nightly  Dream 

Itn  Ndchi^gen  Trauvt 7 

I  Lay  and  Slept  Most  Peacefully 

Ich  lag  und  schlief  und  schlief  recht  mild 8 

,^  Many  Pale  Spectres  Long  Vanished 

Ich  hay  vieV  blasse  Leichen lo 

SONGS  LIEDER 

At  Morn  I  Rise  and  Query 

Mortens  steh^  ich  atif  und  /rage 13 

To  the  Woods  My  Footsteps  Turning 

Ich  wandelte  ttnter  den  Bdunien 14 

Fairest  Cradle  of  My  Sorrow 

Schone  Wiege  meiner  Leiden 15 

First,  I  Felt  Nigh  to  Despairing 

A  n/angs  ivolW  ich  fast  verzagen 17 


CONTENTS. 


ROMANCES  ROMA  NZ  EN 

PAGE 

The  Mourner 

Der  Traurige 19 

The  Mountain-Voice 

Die  BergstUnme 21 

Poor  Peter 

Der  A  rtne  Peter 22 

The  Message 

Die  Botschaft 24 

SONNET  SONETTE 

To  My  Mother 

A  n  tneine  Mutter 25 

LYRICAL  INTERLUDE 
LYRISCHES  INTERMEZZO 

'T  Was  in  the  Glorious  Month  of  May 

Im  wunderschbnen  Monat  Mai. 27 

Up  from  My  Tears,  Fair  Flowers 

A  us  rneinen  Thrdnen  spriessen 28 

The  Rose  and  the  Lily,  the  Sun  and  the  Dove 

Die  Rose.,  die  Liliey  die  Taube.,  die  Sonne 29 

When.  I  Can  Gaze  into  Thine  Eyes 

Wenn  ich  in  deine  A  ugen  seh^ 30 

Thy  Visage  Beautiful  and  Kind 

Dein  A  ngesicht  so  lieb  und  schon 31 

Oh  !  Lean  Thy  Cheek  against  My  Cheek 

Lehn*  deine  Wang^  an  nzeine  IVang^ 32 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

The  Stars  Have  Stood   for  Ages 

Es  stehen  unbeweglich 33 

On  the  Wings  of  Song  I  '11  Carry 

A  uf  FlUgeln  des  Gesanges 34 

To  Steep  My  Very  Spirit 

Ich  will  meine  Seele  taucken 3^ 

The  Lotus  Flower  Stands  Trembling 

Die  Lotusbluine  dngstigt 37 

Oh!  Do  Not  Swear,  but  Kiss  Me,  Dear 

O  schwore  nicht  und  kiisse  nur 3^ 

I  Nurse  No  Wrath,  and  Though  My  Heart  be  Crushed 

Ich  grolle  nickt,  und  wenn  das  Herz  auch  bricht^  39 
And  Could  the  Little  Flowers  Know 

Und  wiissten^s  die  BlumeUy  die  Kleinen 41 

Why  Do  the  Roses  Look  So  Pale? 

War  tint  sind  dcnn  die  Rosen  so  blass  ? 42 

So  Many  Tales  They  Bore  Thee 

Sie  haben  Dir  viel  erzdhlet 43 

The  Linden  Blossomed,  the  Nightingale  Sung 

Die  Linde  blUhte^  die  Nachtigall  sang. 44 

Because  So  Long,  So  Long  I  Stayed 

Und  als  ich  so  lange^  so  lange  gesdutnt 45 

A  Pine-Tree  Standeth  Lonely 

Ein  Fichtenbaum  steht  einsani 46 

The  Head  Speaks 

Der  Kopf  spricht 47 

The  Heart  Speaks 

Das  Herz  spricht 47 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

The  Song  Speaks 

Das  Lied  spricht 47 

Up  from  the  Tomb  Rise  Pictures 

Manch  Bild  vergess' ner  Zeiten 48 

A  Youth  Once  Loved  a  Maiden 

Ein   Yiingling  liebt  ein  Made  hen 50 

Whene'er  I  Hear  the  Little  Song 

Hdr*  ich  das  Liedchen  klingen 51 

A  Princess  Came  in  Dreams  to  Me 

Mir  trdunite  von  eineni  Konigskind. 52 

Thou  'st  Ever  Had  and  Hast  My  Heart 

Ich  hah'  dich  geliebet  und  Hebe  dich  noch 53 

On  a  Radiant  Summer-Morning 

A  tn  leuchtenden  Sommermorgen 54 

My  Love  Shines  Out  in  Its  Glory 

Es  leuchtet  tneine  Liebe 55 

They  Caused  Me  Greatest  Torture 

Sie  haben  tnich  gequdlet 56 

There  Lies  the  Warmth  of  Summer 

Es  liegt  der  heisse  Sommer 57 

I  Don't  Believe  in  the   Heaven 

Ich  glauh  nicht  an  den  HimmeL 58 

When  Two  Take  Leave  of  Each  Other 

Wenn  zwei  von  einander  scheiden 59 

I  Wept  Whilst  I  Was  Dreaming 

Ich  hah*  iin   Trauin'  geiveinet 60 

At  Night  in  Dreams  I  See  Thee,  When 

Allnachtlich  im  Traume  seli'  ich  dich 61 


CONTEXTS 


PAGB 

The  Autumn-Wind  Rattles  the  Branches 

Der  Herbstivind  rilttelt  die  Bdume 62 

A  Star  Comes  Downward  Falling 

Es  /dllt  ein  Stern  herunter 64 

Night  Brooded  on  Mine  Eyelids 

Nacht  lag  au/  meinen  A  ugen 65 

The  Old  Unhappy  Ditties 

Die  altetiy  bosen  Lieder 68 

THE    HOMEWARD   JOURNEY 
DIE  HEIMKEHR 

I  Know  Not  What  Has  Come  O'er  Me 

Ich  weiss  nickt  ivas  soil  es  bedeuten 71 

My  Heart,  My  Heart  Is  Mournful 

Mein  Herz^  me  in  Herz  ist  traurig. 73 

Thou  Lovely  Fishermaiden 

Du  schones  Fischermddchen 75 

The  Evening  Shades  Draw  Slowly  Nigh 

Der  A  bend  konttnt  gezogen 76 

Far  Out  in  Radiance  O'er  the  Sea 

Das  Meer  ergldnzte  zveit  kinaiis 78 

Upon  the  Far  Horizon 

A  nt  fernen  Horizonte 79 

I  Stood  in  Gloomy  Dreaming 

Ich  stand  in  dunkeln  Trdumen 80 

They  Think  that  I  Am  Pining 

Man  glaubt  dass  ich  mich  grdme 81 


CONTENTS. 


i'AGE 

They  Loved  Each  Other,  but  Neither 

Sie  liebten  sick  beide^  dock  keiner 82 

My  Heart  Is  Sad  and  I  Am  Driven 

Das  Herz  ist  vtir  bedriickt  und  sehnlich 83 

Do  Not  Lose  All  Patience  with  Me 

Werdet  nur  nicht  ungeduldig^ 84 

Heart,  Despair  Not,  I  Implore  It 

HerZy  ■mein  Herz^  set  nicht  bekloynmen 85 

Like  to  a  Flower,  Lovely 

Du  bist  ivie  eine  Blume 86 

Child,  It  Would  Be  Thine  Undoing 

Kind^  es  zudre  dein  Verderben 87 

Oh  !  That  the  Stream  of  My  Sorrows 

Ick  wollt''  meine  Schmerzen  ergiissen 88 

In  the  Post-Chaise  Dark  We  Journeyed 

IVir  fuhren  allein   itn    dunkeln   Postwagen  die 

game  Nacht 89 

The  Pilgrimage  to  Kevlaar 

Die  Wallfahrt  nach  Kevlaar 90 

THE   HARTZ  JOURNEY  DIE  HARZREISE 

On  the  Mountain  Stands  the  Cottage 

A  uf  dem  Berge  steht  die  Hiitte 95 

The  Shepherd  Boy  's  a  Very  King 

Konig  ist  der  Hirtenknabe 98 

I  Am  the  Princess  Use 

Ich  bin  die  Prinzessin  Use 100 


CONTENTS. 


NORTHSEA  CYCLE  NORDSEE  CYCLUS 

PAGE 

Epilogue 

Epilog 103 

NEW  SPRING  NEVER  FRUHLING 

The  Slender  Water-Lily. 

Die  schlanke  Wasserlilie 105 

The  Rose  Is  Fragrant— but  Whether  She  Feeleth 

Die  Rose  du/iet — dock  ob  sie  entpjindet 106 

Because  I  Love  Thee,  I  Must  Leave  Thee 

Weil  ich  dich  liebe  tnuss  ich  fliehen 107 

Gentle  Chimes  with  Sweetest  Ring 

^^  Leise  zieht  durch  viein  Gentuth 108 

There  Was  an  Aged  Monarch 

Es  war  ein  alter  Koni^. 109 

MISCELLANEOUS  VERSCHIEDENE 

S^RAPHINB 

When  I  Through  the  Dreamy  Forest 

Wandl '  ich  in  dein  Wald*  des  A  bends 1 1 1 

On  the  Silent  Shores  of  Ocean 

A n  detn  stillen  Meeresstrande 112 

I  See  a  White  Mew  Yonder 

Das  ist  eine  lueisse  Mowe 113 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I  Knew  that  Thou  Dost  Love  Me 

Das  du  mich  liebst^  das  wussi^  ich 114 

How  Wond'ringly  the  Sea-Mew 

Wie  neubegierig  die  Mowe 115 

She  Fled  from  Me  Like  a  Timid  Doe 

Sie  Jloh  vor  inir  wie  '«  Rek  so  scheu 116 

Shadowy  Love  and  Shadowy  Kisses 

SchattcnkUsse — Schattenliebe 118 

The  Damsel  Stood  by  the  Ocean 

Das  Frdulein  stand  avt  Meere 119 

My  Ship,  with  Black  Sails,  Sails  Along 

Mit  schivarzen  Segeln  segelt  inein  Schiff. 120 

How  Shamefully  Thou  'st  Acted 

Wie  schdndlick  du  geha?idelt 121 

The  Roaring  Waves 

^^  £s  Ziehen  die  brausenden  Wellen 122 

The  Runic  Stone  Juts  Out  from  the  Beach 

\c!  Es  ragt  in  s  Meer  der  Runenstein 123 

The  Sea  Gleams  Forth  Beneath  the  Sun 

Das  Meer  erstrahlt  iin  Sonnenschein 124 

Ang6lique 

On  Both  Her  Eyes  My  Hand  I  Pressed 

Ich  halte  ihr  die  A  ugen  zu 125 

Katharine 

Long  Was  I  Songless  and  Dejected 

Gesanglos  war  ich  und  beklomtnen 126 


CONTENTS. 


POEMS  OF  THE  TIMES  ZEITGEDICHTE 

PAGE 

Night  Thoughts 

Nachtgedanken 129 

Germany 

Deutschland 132 

NEW  SONGS  NEUE  LIEDER 

A  Woman 

Ein   Weib 137 

Spring's  Festival 

Friihlingsfeier 139 

What  I  Have,  Ask  Not,  My  Darling 

Frag'  nichiy  Liebchen^  was  ich  habe 140 

The  Lesson 

Die  Lehre 141 


GOETHE 

POEMS  GEDICHTE 

The  Wand'rer's  Night  Song 

Des  WandWer's  NachtUed 145 

Ocean  Calm 

Meeresstille 146 

Happy  Voyage 

Gliickliche  Fahrt 147 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Swiss   Song 


Schweizerlied. , 
The  Angler 

Der  Fischer  . . 


150 


Vanitas  Vanitatum 152 

GEIBEL 

POEMS  GEDICHTE 

O  Therefore  Is  the  Spring  So  Bright 

O  darutn  ist  der  Lenz  so  schon 157 

The  Poor  Good-for-Nothing 

Der  arme  Taugenichts 159 

In  April 

Im  April 161 

O  Still  This  Ardent  Yearning 

O  stille  dies  Verlangen 162 

Gondoliera 

Gondoliera 164 

Let  No  One  Ask  Me  Ever 

Wolle  keiner  mich  fragen 166 

Girlhood's  Songs 

Mddchenlieder 168 

Answer 

A  ntzvort 170 

As  It  Will  Happen 

Wie  es  geht 172 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

See'st  Thou  the  Sea 

Siek'st  du  das  Meer  ? 174 

Separation,  Desolation 

Scheiden^  Leiden 175 

Onward 

Vorivdrts 177 

Hope 

Hoffnung. 179 

SONGS  LIEDER 

Let  the  Songs  I  'm  Singing  Golden  Bridges  Be 

Goldne  Br  tic  ken  seien  alle  Lieder  mir 181 

The  Silent  Water-Lily. 

Die  stille  Wasserrose 182 

A  Crown  of  Cornflow'rs  Let  Me  Wreathe 

Kornblutnen  flechf  ich  dir  zum  Kranz 183 

Within  a  Rosebush  Love  Once  Sat 

Die  Liebe  sass  ah  Nachtigall 1 84 

Once  Bowed  with  Grief  and  Sore  Distress'd 

Wohl  lag  ich  einst  in  Grant  und  Schtnerz 186 

At  Last  the  Daylight  Fadeth 

Nun  ist  der  Tag  geschieden 187 

When  Evening's  Dying  Flames  Sink  Yonder 

Wenn  still  ntit  seinen  letzten  Flantnten 188 

Thou  Askest  Me  My  Gold-Haired  Pet 

Du  fragst  michy  du^  tnein  blondes  Lieb 189 

A  JRiousand  Kisses,  Ere  We  Part 
t    Viel  Tausendy   Tausend  Kusse  gieb 191 


CONTENTS. 


I'AGE 

The  Time  of  Roses  Now  Has  Fled 

Voruber  ist  die  Rosenzeit 193 

Now  May  Is  upon  Us 

Der  Mai  ist  gekofumen 194 

The  Lilies  Glow  Forth  Sweetly 

Die  Lilien  gliihn  in  Die/ten 196 

As  in  the  Sky  Appears  the  Sun 

Die  Sonn'  hebt  ayt  vom  Wolkenzclt 197 

Oh,  Hurry  my  Steed 

O  schneller  inein  Ross 199 

I  Cannot  Fathom  Why 

Ich  weiss  nicht  wie  *s  geschieht 201 

NEW  SONNETS  NEUE  SONNETTEN 

Whene'er  Two  Hearts  Must  Sever 

Wenn  zich  zwei  Herzen  scheiden 203 

Oh  !  Touch  It  Not  1 

O  riihret  nicht  damn 205 


UHLAND 

The  Minstrel's  Curse 

Des  Sanger's  Finch 209 

King  Karl  on  the  Sea 

Konig  KarVs  Meer/ahrt 215 

Young  Roland 

Kiein  Roland 218 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

FREILIGRATH 


Oh  !  Love  as  Long  as  Thou  Canst  Love  ! 

O  lieb  so  lang  du  lleben  kannst 227 

Rest  in  the  Beloved 

Ruhe  in  der  Geliebten 230 

In  the  Woods 

Int  Walde 232 

RUCKERT 

I  Love  Thee,  for  't  is  Thee,  Dear,  I  Must  Love 

Ich  Hebe  dich  iveil  ich  dich  lieben  muss 237 

The  Nightingale 

Die  Nachtigall 238 

MOERICKE 

An  Hour  Ere  Break  of  Day 

Eitt  Stiindlein  7vohl  vor  Tag 243 


CHAMISSO 


Woman's  Love  and  Life 

Frauenliebe  und  Leben. 


HEINE. 


prologue, 

VORREDE, 

TPHIS  is  the  fairy-wood  of  old  ! 

Sweet  linden-buds  are  blowing  ! 
The  wondrous  moonlight  o'er  my  soul 
A  magic  spell  is  throwing. 

I  walked  along,  and  as  I  walked 
Soft  strains  on  high  were  ringing. 

It  is  the  nightingale  !     Of  love 

And  love's  great  woe  she  *s  singing. 

She  sings  of  love  and  love's  great  woe, 
Of  laughter  and  of  weeping  ; 

So  sad  is  her  rapture,  so  glad  is  her  sob, 
Dreams  wake,  that  long  were  sleeping. 

I  walked  alon^,  and  as  I  walked 

In  a  clearing  rose  before  me 
A  palace  vast,  whose  gables  seemed 

To  soar  toward  heaven,  o'er  me. 


,       PROLOGUE. 

Closed  were  the  windows  ;  all  appeared 
By  silence  and  grief  o'ertaken, 

As  tho'  still  death  its  home  had  made 
Within  those  walls  forsaken. 

Before  the  gate  there  lay  a  sphinx, 
Both  horror  and  lust  inviting  ; 

A  woman's  head  and  breast,  to  paws 
And  trunk  of  lion  uniting. 

A  glorious  woman  !     Her  marble  glance 
Spoke  yearnings  wild  and  tender, 

Her  arching  lips  said  not  a  word, 
But  smiled  a  mute  surrender. 

So  sweetly  sang  the  nightingale, 

I  yielded  to  her  wooing  ; 
And  as  I  kissed  that  lovely  face 

I  sealed  my  own  undoing. 

The  marble  image  warmed  to  life. 
The  stone  with  moans  resounded  ; 

She  drank  my  kisses*  ardent  fire 
With  thirst  and  greed  unbounded. 


HEINE. 

She  almost  drained  my  breath — until 

Voluptuously  bending, 
She  clasped  me  tight,  her  lion's  claws 

My  hapless  body  rending. 

Delicious  torture  !     Rapturous  woe  ! 

Infinite  anguish  and  blessing  ! 
Her  claws  inflict  most  fearful  wounds, 

While  her  kiss  on  my  mouth  she  is  pressing  ! 

The  nightingale  sang  :  "Oh,  beautiful  sphinx  ! 

Oh,  love  !  why  is  't  intended 
That  with  the  agony  of  death 

Thy  bliss  should  all  be  blended  ? 

"  Oh,  lovely  sphinx  !  oh,  solve  for  me 
The  riddle  strange  past  telling  ! 
For  many  thousand  years  my  thoughts 
Upon  it  have  been  dwelling." 


Dream  pictures* 

TRAUMBJLDER, 


IM  NACHTGEN  TRAUM\ 

TN  nightly  dream  I  once  myself  did  see, 

Black  coat,  silk  vest,  and  every  preparation, 
Down  to  the  cuffs — as  for  some  celebration. 
My  lovely  darling  then  confronted  me. 
I  bowed  and  said  :  "  May  you  the  fair  bride  be  ? 
Why  then,  my  dear,  take  my  congratulation  ! " 
But  oh  !  those  words  nigh  caused  my  strangulation. 
They  fell  so  stiff,  so  cold,  so  haughtily 
Upon  mine  ear.     And  bitter  tears  came  streaming 
Out  from  my  darling's  eyes.     And  that  flood's  power 
Swept  far  from  me  the  vision  brightly  gleaming. 
Oh  !  tender  eyes,  love's  stars  that  glow  so  kindly, 
What  the'  in  dreams  and  many  a  waking  hour 
You  oft  deceived  me  ?    Yet  I  trust  you  blindly  ! 


DREAM  PICTURES. 


IT  Xa^  anD  Slept  /IRoet  ipeacetulli^* 

ICH  LAG   UND  SCHLIEF  UND   SCHLIEF  RECHT 
MILD. 

T  LAY  and  slept  most  peacefully, 

Gone  was  all  strife  and  care  ; 
A  vision  then  appeared  to  me, 
The  maid  of  all  most  fair. 

Like  unto  marble  she  was  white, 

And  weirdly  lovely  she  ; 
Her  eyes  gleamed  with  a  pearly  light. 

Her  hair  waved  wondrously. 

And  softly,  softly  then  comes  on 

That  maiden  marble  white. 
And  then  close  to  my  heart  lies  down 

That  maiden  marble  white. 

How  starts  and  throbs  my  burning  heart 

With  pain  and  ecstasy  ! 
The  fair  one's  does  not  throb  nor  start, — 

Ice  could  not  colder  be. 


'*  My  heart  nor  throbs,  nor  starts,  't  is  true, 

Ice  could  not  colder  be. 
But  I  have  felt  love's  rapture  too 

And  love's  great  mastery. 

*'  On  cheeks  and  lips  there  gleams  no  red. 
No  warm  blood  flows  thro*  me, — 

But  do  not  shrink  away  in  dread, 
For  I  am  fond  of  thee." 

More  fierce  grew  her  caress, — until 

She  clasped  me  all  too  tight. 
The  cock  crowed  loud, — then  vanished,  still, 

That  maiden  marble  white. 


DREAM  PICTURES. 


^ang  ipale  Spectres  %ox[Q  IDantebeD* 

ICH  HA  ff  VI EV  BLA  SSE  LEICHEN. 

jVyi  ANY  pale  spectres,  long  vanished, 

I  evoked  by  a  word's  n^agic  might  ; 
And  now  they  will  not  be  banished 
Again  to  their  former  night. 

The  master's  words,  all-compelling, 
I  forgot  in  my  dread  and  dismay  ; 

And  now  to  their  shadowy  dwelling 
My  own  ghosts  would  lead  me  away. 

Dark  demons,  cease  your  persistence  ! 

Begone,  and  press  not  so  close  ! 
For  many  a  joy  of  existence 

May  yet  bloom  in  the  light  of  the  rose. 

Oh  !  could  I  once  only  press  her 
Quite  close  to  my  glowing  breast, 

On  cheeks  and  on  lips  caress  her. 
With  kisses  of  anguish  most  blest  I 


HEINE. 

Oh  !  could  I  but  once  hear  her  saying 
A  single  word,  loving  and  low, — 

Then,  spirits,  without  more  delaying 
With  you  to  your  dark  home  I  'd  go  ! 

The  spirits  one  and  all  hear  me, 

And  nod  appallingly. 
My  darling,  now  I  am  near  thee  ; — 

My  darling,  lov'st  thou  me  ? 


Songs* 

LIEDER, 


Bt  /ftorn  H  •Rise  anD  (aueri^. 

MORGENS  STEW   ICH  AUF  UND  FRAGE. 

A  T  morn  I  rise  and  query  : 

'*  Will  sweetheart  come  to-day?" 
At  night  I  sink  down  weary  : 
**  Again  she  *s  stayed  away." 

All  night,  alone  with  my  sorrow 
A  sleepless  watch  I  keep  ; 

I  wander  about  on  the  morrow 
As  though  I  were  half  asleep. 


SONGS. 


XLo  tbe  TKHoo^e  m^  ff ootetepe  n:urnin0. 

ICH  WANDELTE  UNTER  DEN  BAUMEN. 

'T'O  the  woods  my  footsteps  turning, 
I  strolled  with  my  grief,  apart ; 
And  then  the  old  dream's  yearning 
Crept  back  into  my  heart. 

That  little  word, — who  did  bring  it  ? 

Say,  birdies,  that  heavenward  soar  ! 
—Oh,  hush  !  for  my  heart,  when  you  sing  it, 

Aches  twice  as  much  as  before. 

**  A  maiden  who  passed  here,  has  taught  it : 

She  sang  it,  and  we  heard  ; 
And  so,  we  birdies  have  caught  it, 

That  lovely,  golden  word." 

Nevermore  such  a  tale  be  revealing, 

Oh  !  cunning  songsters,  ye  ! 
My  sorrow  you  fain  would  be  stealing, 

But  none  can  my  confidant  be. 


HEINE.  X5 

ffalreet  CraDle  of  ^12  Sorrow, 

SCHONE  WIEGE  MEINER  LEIDEN, 

U  AIREST  cradle  of  my  sorrow, 
Fairest  grave  of  peace  to  me, 
Fairest  town,  ere  dawns  the  morrow 
We  must  part, — farewell  to  thee. 

Fare  thee  well,  O  threshold  lowly, 
Where  my  darling's  footsteps  rest, 

Fare  thee  well,  O  spot  most  holy. 
Where  she  first  my  vision  blest. 

Had  I  but  beheld  thee  never, 
Thou,  my  heart's  belovM  queen, 

Then  it  had  not  happened  ever 
That  so  wretched  I  had  been. 

For  thy  heart  I  have  not  striven. 
Nor  to  gain  thy  love  have  tried  ; 

All  my  longing  was  to  live  in 
Quiet,  where  thou  dost  abide. 


i6  SONGS. 


But  I  leave  at  thy  own  urging  ; 

From  thy  lips  harsh  sayings  pour  ; 
Madness  in  my  breast  is  surging, 

And  my  heart  is  sick  and  sore. 

With  my  staff  I  drag  on,  dreary, 
Limbs  that  weaken  day  by  day 

Till  I  lay  my  head,  a-weary. 
In  a  cool  grave,  far  away. 


HEINE. 


fflret  H  ffelt  IFlfgb  to  Deepatrin^* 

AN  FANGS  WOLLT  ICH  FAST  VERZAGEN. 

piRST,  I  felt  nigh  to  despairing, —     i 
Thought  I  could  not  bear  my  lot ; 
Yet  my  lot  I  have  been  bearing, 
Only  how, — pray  ask  me  not  ! 


IRomanoes* 

ROMANZEN, 


tTbe  /ftourner. 

DER   TRAURIGE. 

pVERY  heart  with  woe  is  smitten 

When  the  sad  youth  they  behold 
On  whose  face  are  plainly  written 
Pain  and  sorrows  manifold. 

Breezes  soft,  with  pity  laden, 
Gently  fan  his  fevered  brow  ; 

Many  erst  so  coy  a  maiden 
Longs,  with  smiles,  to  soothe  him  now. 

From  the  city's  noisy  bustle 

To  the  woods  he  hies  away  ; 
There  the  tree-tops  gaily  rustle. 

And  the  birds  sing  carols  gay. 
19 


ROMANCES. 


But  the  song  soon  dies  out  wholly, 
Tree  and  leaf  both  sadly  sway, 

As  the  mournful  youth,  now  slowly, 
Near  the  forest  wends  his  way. 


HEINE. 


XTbe  /Rountain*\Dotce. 

DIE  BERGSTIMME. 

A  CROSS  the  vale,  in  slow,  sad  pace, 

There  rides  a  trooper  brave  ; 
"  Oh  !  go  I  now  to  sweetheart's  arms, 
Or  to  a  gloomy  grave  ?  " 
The  mountain  answer  gave  : 
"  A  gloomy  grave." 

And  onward  still  the  horseman  rides. 
And  sighs  with  heaving  breast ; 

"  So  soon  I  go  then  to  my  grave, 
Ah  well,  the  grave  brings  rest." 
The  mountain-voice  confessed : 
"  The  grave  brings  rest." 

And  then,  down  from  the  horseman's  cheek 
A  woeful  tear-drop  fell ; 

**  And  if  the  grave  alone  brings  rest, 
All  will,  in  the  grave,  be  well." 
The  voice — with  hollow  knell  : 
**  In  the  grave  be  well." 


ROMANCES. 


poor  ipetet^ 

DER  ARME  PETER. 

A  S  Hans  and  Crete  join  in  dance 

And  shout  in  wildest  glee, 
So  sad  and  silent  Peter  stands — 
As  white  as  chalk  is  he. 

Now,  bride  and  groom  are  Gret'  and  Hans 

All  decked  in  wedding-gilt  ; 
A'  biting  his  nails  poor  Peter  stands, 

And  wears  his  workman's  kilt. 

To  himself,  in  secret,  Peter  said, 

And  sadly  gazed  on  the  two  : 
**  Oh  !  had  I  not  so  wise  a  head. 

Some  harm  to  myself  I  'd  do  ! 

"  For  in  my  heart  there  's  such  great  woe. 
It  fain  would  burst  my  breast  ; 

Where'er  I  stand,  where'er  I  go, 
It  never  lets  me  rest. 


HEINE.  23 


*  It  drives  me  to  my  Crete  sweet 

As  if  she  'd  cure  my  pain  ; 
But  when  my  eyes  her  glances  meet, 
It  drives  me  forth  again. 

"  I  climb  up  to  the  mountain-top  ; 

— Alone  one  there  can  be, — 
And  there,  quite  silently,  I  stop, 

And  weep,  quite  silently." 


Poor  Peter  staggers  slowly'  by 

So  deathly  pale,  and  wan,  and  shy  ; 

And  all  the  people  whom  he  meets, 
Stand  still,  to  watch  him,  in  the  streets. 

The  maidens  whisper  secretly  : 

**  Out  of  the  grave,  no  doubt,  comes  he." 
Oh,  no,  you  little  damsels  fair, 

He  's  just  about  to  enter  there  ! 

As  he  has  lost  his  own  sweetheart. 
The  grave  's  the  place  to  lie  apart  ; 

Where  he  may  pass  the  years  away 
And  sleep  until  the  judgment-day. 


ROMANCES. 


DIE  BOTSCHAFT, 

T  TP,  up,  my  boy,  and  saddle  quick, 

And  fling  thee  on  thy  steed. 
And  to  King  Duncan's  castle  ride 
Thro'  woods  and  fields,  with  speed. 

Slip  in  his  stable  there,  and  wait 

Till  by  the  groom  espied  ; 
Then  question  him  :  "  Say  which  one  is 

Of  Duncan's  daughters  bride  ?  " 

If  says  the  boy  :  "  The  brown  one  't  is." 

Then  quickly  let  me  know  ; 
But  if  he  says  :  "  The  blonde  one  't  is," 

Thou  need'st  not  hurry  so. 

To  Master  Twinester  then  go  out. 

Buy  me  a  rope  there,  and — 
Ride  slowly  back,  say  not  a  word. 

But  lay  that  in  my  hand. 


Sonnets 

SONET  TE, 


Zo  /IR^  jiftotbec 

AN  MEINE  MUTTER, 

T  HAVE  been  wont  my  head  to  carry  high, 
My  will  has  been  my  law  in  every  thing  ; 
If  opposite  to  me  there  stood  a  king 

I  would  not  timidly  avert  mine  eye. 

But,  Mother  dear,  I  *11  tell  thee  openly  : 
However  haughtily  my  soul  may  swell. 
When  in  thy  presence  sweet  and  dear  I  dwell, 

A  trembling  diffidence  comes  over  me. 
Am  I  subdued  by  thy  great  spirit's  might, 
Thy  pure,  keen  soul  that  fathoms  all  aright, 
And,  flashing  forth,  soars  up  to  heaven's  light  ? 

Do  recollections  rise  to  torture  me. 

The  many  deeds  with  which  I  grievously 
25 


SONNET. 


Thy  dear  heart  pained,  that  loved  me  tenderly  ? 

In  frenzy  wild  I  once  deserted  thee  ; 

The  wish  to  know  the  whole  world  filled  my 

mind  ; 
I  longed  to  see  if  love  I  there  could  find, — 

That  love  I  might  encompass  lovingly  ! 

I  sought  love  in  all  streets  ;  at  every  gate, 
In  suppliance  outstretched,  I  held  my  palms, 
And  begged  for  just  a  little  of  love's  alms, — 

But  all  they  gave  me,  laughing,  was  cold  hate  ! 
Yet  still  I  sought  for  love  ;  again 
My  endless  search  resumed.      But  all  in  vain. 

Then   homeward    turned    I,    sick,    with    troubled 
thought. 
But  there,  to  bid  me  welcome,  thou  wert  nigh. 
And  lo  !  what  I  saw  shining  in  thine  eye. 

That  was  the  sweet  love  I  so  long  had  sought  ! 


Xptical  ITnterlu&e* 

L  YRISCHES  INTERMEZZO. 


'Z  TIBlag  in  tbe  (Blotioue  ^ontb  of  ltz.% 

IM  WUNDERSCHONEN  MONA  T  MAI, 

''T*  WAS  in  the  glorious  month  of  May 
When  all  the  buds  were  blowing, 
I  first  felt  in  my  bosom 
Love's  tender  fire  glowing. 

'T  was  in  the  glorious  month  of  May 
When  all  the  birds  were  singing, 

The  yearning  deep  I  told  her 
That  in  my  heart  was  ringing  ! 


27 


28  LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 


•Qlp  ffrom  /IB12  ^eare,  ffair  fflowere* 

y4  US  MEINEN   THRANEN  SPRIESSEN. 

I  TP  from  my  tears,  fair  flowers, 

Innumerable,  rise  ; 
The  nightingales*  sweet  chorus 
Re-echoes  in  my  sighs. 

And  if  thou  lov'st  me,  darling, 
All  the  flowers  to  thee  I  '11  bring 

And  then  beneath  thy  window 
The  nightingales  shall  sing. 


HEINE. 


^be  "Roee  anD  tbe  Xil^,  tbe  Sun  anO  tbe 

Z>/^  i?(96"^,  Z?/^  Z/Z/^,  DIE  TA  UBE,  DIE  SONNE. 

T^HE  rose  and  the  lily,  the  sun  and  the  dove, 

I  loved  them  all  once  with  a  rapturous  love. 
I  love  them  no  more,  I  love  her  alone. 
The  rarest,  the  fairest,  the  dearest,  the  one  ; 
She  herself  is  the  fountain  whence  all  rapture  flows, 
She  's  the  lily,  the  dove,  the  sun,  and  the  rose. 


LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 


TKaben  1[  Can  (5a3e  Into  ZY^inc  iB^ce. 

WENN  ICH  IN  DEINE  A  UGEN  SEH\    ' 

"\X7HEN  I  can  gaze  into  thine  eyes, 

All  pain,  all  sorrow  from  me  flies  ; 
But  when  my  lips  thy  kisses  meet, 
Then  is,  indeed,  my  cure  complete  ! 

When  I  can  lean  against  thy  breast. 
With  heav'nly  calm  my  soul  is  blest  ; 

But  when  thou  sayest :  "  I  love  thee," 
Then  must  I  weep  most  bitterly. 


HEINE. 


Z\ro  iDiea^e  ^Beautiful  anD  IklnO* 

DEIN  ANGESICHT  SO  LIEB  UND  SCHON. 

'T'HY  visage,  beautiful  and  kind, 

Appeared,  in  dreams,  before  my  mind  ; 
With  angel's  softest  light  it  shone, 
And  yet  so  pale,  so  woe-begone. 

Thy  lips  alone  were  rosy  bright  ; 

But  soon  cold  Death  will  kiss  them  white, 
And  from  thine  eyes,  the  heav'nly  ray 

That  gently  beams,  will  fade  away. 


LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 


©b !  Xean  Zh^  Cbeeft  B^alnst  IS^'q  Cbeeft, 

LEHN'  DEINE  WANG  AN  MEINE  WANG\ 

r\^  !  lean  thy  cheek  against  my  cheek, 
Together  our  tears  will  flow  then  ; 
Thy  heart  press  close  against  my  heart, 
Together  our  flames  will  glow  then. 

And  when  the  great  stream  of  our  tears 

Flows  into  the  mighty  fire, 
And  when  I  clasp  thee  in  strong  embrace. 

With  yearning  love  I  '11  expire  ! 


HEINE.  33 


tTbe  Stare  Ijave  StooD  tor  Bges^ 

^6"  STEM  EN  UNBEIVEGLICH, 

'T'HE  stars  have  stood  for  ages 

Immovably  above  ; 
And  gazed  upon  each  other 
With  yearning,  woeful  love. 

They  speak  a  certain  language, 

So  beautiful,  so  fine. 
That  none  of  all  the  masters 

Its  meaning  can  divine. 

But  I  have  learnt  that  language, 

Which  naught  from  my  mind  can  erase  ; 

The  grammar  in  which  I  studied. 
Was  my  lovely  sweetheart's  face. 


LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 


©n  tbe  llCltngs  ot  SciXiQ  IT  ai  Carn^^ 

AUF  FLUGELN  DES  GESANGES. 

r\^  the  wings  of  song  I  '11  carry 
Thee,  darling,  off  with  me  ; 
On  the  Ganges'  shores  we  '11  tarry, 
No  spot  can  lovelier  be. 

A  garden  with  rose-red  bowers. 
In  the  moonlight  calm  lies  there  ; 

And  there  the  lotus-flowers 
Await  their  sister  fair. 

The  violets  titter,  caressing, 
And  gaze  at  the  stars,  on  high  ; 

And  fairy-tales  are  confessing 
The  roses,  whispering  shy. 

To  hearken,  then  come  leaping 

The  gentle,  wise  gazelles  ; 
The  sacred  river's  sweeping 

Far  out,  in  the  distance,  swells. 


HEINE. 

And  there  we  *11  sink  down  lowly 
Beneath  the  great  palm-tree  ; 

Drink  love  and  peace  most  holy 
In  dreams  of  ecstasy. 


36  LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 


^0  steep  /Ifti5  Ders  Spirit 

ICH  WILL  MEINE  SEELE  TA  UCHEN. 

'T'O  steep  my  very  spirit 

In  a  lily's  heart,  I  long  ; 
That  softly  I  may  hear  it 
Exhale  my  darling's  song. 

The  song  must  tremble  and  quiver, 

Alike  unto  that  kiss, 
Of  vi^hich  she  was  the  giver 

In  an  hour  of  wondrous  bliss. 


HEINE.  37 


^be  Xotue  ffloWr  Stance  tTrembltng. 

DIE  LOTUSBLUME  ANGSTIGT. 

'T'HE  lotus  flow'r  stands  trembling 

Beneath  the  sun's  fierce  light, 
With  head  low  bent,  and  dreaming, 
She  waits  the  coming  night. 

The  moon,  who  is  her  lover, 

Awakes  her  with  his  rays  ; 
To  him  she  gladly  unveileth 

Her  gentle,  flower-face. 

She  blooms,  and  glows  and  glistens, 

And  mutely  stares  above  ; 
She  weeps,  exhales  and  trembles. 

With  the  bliss  and  woes  of  love. 


38  LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 


) !  Do  flot  Swear,  but  1Ri66  /IRe,  Bean 

O  SCHWORE  NICHT  UND   KUSSE  NUR. 

r\  H  !  do  not  swear,  but  kiss  me,  dear, 
All  women's  oaths  are  false,  I  fear  ; 
Thy  words  are  sweet,  but  far  more  sweet 
The  kiss  in  which  our  lips  did  meet  ; 

That  kiss  is  mine,  in  it  trust  I, 

But  words,  like  mist,  float  idly  by. 

Oh  !  swear  on,  dear,  eternally  ! 

Thy  simple  word  suffices  me. 
I  sink  upon  thy  bosom  fair 
And  deem  that  I  am  blessed  there, 

And  that,  through  all  eternity. 

And  longer  still,  thou  'It  love  but  me  ! 


HEINE. 


•ff  nautse  Bo  Tldratb,  an&  ^bougb  /Dbs  Ibeart 
be  CruebeD. 

ICH  GROLLE  NICHT,  UND  WENN DA  S  HERZ  A  UCH 
BRIGHT. 


T    NURSE   no  wrath,  and  though   my  heart  be 
crushed, 

Oh  !  love  forever  lost,  my  wrath  is  hushed  ! 

Though  thy  fair  form  be  decked  with  jewels  bright, 
No  single  ray  illumes  thy  spirit's  night. 

I  *ve  known  this  long.     For  in  my  sleep 
I  saw  thee,  and  thy  bosom's  gloomy  deep. 
And  saw  the  viper  gnawing  at  thy  heart. 
And  saw  how  wretched,  oh  !  my  love,  thou  art. 

II. 

Yes,  thou  art  wretched,  and  I  '11  not  complain. 

My  love,  we  both  must  ever  wretched  be ; 
Till  death  has  rent  our  two  poor  hearts  in  twain, 

My  love,  we  both  must  ever  wretched  be. 


LYRICAL  INTERLUDE, 


I  see  the  scoff  that  on  thy  proud  lip  dwells, 
T  see  thy  glance  flare  out  disdainfully, 

I  see  how  haughtily  thy  bosom  swells — 
Yet  thou  art  wretched,  wretched  just  like  me. 

Thy  quivering  mouth  a  secret  pain  reveals, 

Through  unshed  tears  thine  eye  can  scarcely  see  ; 

Thy  haughty  breast  a  hidden  wound  conceals, — 
My  love,  we  both  must  ever  wretched  be. 


HEINE. 


BnD  CoulO  tbc  Xlttle  fflowers  Iknow. 

UND  WUSSTEN'S  DIE  BLUM  EN,  DIE  KLEIN  EN. 

AND  could  the  little  flowers  know 

How  pierced  my  heart  with  grief, 
I  'm  sure  their  tears  with  mine  would  flow   - 
To  bring  my  pain  relief. 

And  if  the  nightingales  but  knew 

How  sick  I  am,  and  sad, 
They,  lustily,  would  sound  anew 

Their  carols  bright  and  glad. 

And  if  the  golden  stars,  on  high, 

My  sorrow  could  but  guess, 
They  would  come  down  out  of  the  sky 

To  comfort  my  distress. 

Not  one  of  these  can  know  my  pain, 

One  only  knows  its  smart ; 
For  she  herself  has  rent  in  twain, 

Has  rent  in  twain  my  heart ! 


LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 


imibs  5>o  tbe  1R06e6  Xoolft  So  pale? 

IV A  RUM  SIND  DENN  DIE  ROSEN  SO  BLASS  ? 

\X7HY  do  the  roses  look  so  pale, 
Oh  !  darling,  tell  me  why  ? 
The  violets  blue,  in  yon  green  vale, 
Why  are  they  mute  and  shy  ? 

Why  chants  the  lark  in  plaintive  wise, 

As  it  soars  aloft  on  its  way  ? 
From  balsam-herbs  why  does  there  rise 

A  scent  of  death's  decay  ? 

Why  does  the  sun  on  meads  display 
Such  cold  and  frowning  gloom  ? 

And  wherefore  is  the  earth  so  gray 
And  dreary  as  the  tomb  ? 

Why  am  e'en  I,  so  sick,  so  weak. 

My  lovely  love,  oh  !  say  ? 
Oh  !  speak,  my  best  beloved,  speak, 

Why  hast  thou  gone  away  ? 


HEINE. 


So  /Bbani^  XTalee  n:bei2  JBore  trbee. 

^/^  HA  BEN  DIR  VI EL  ERZAHLET. 

CO  many  tales  they  bore  thee, 
And  oft  of  me  complained, 
But  never  set  before  thee 

What  most  my  heart  has  pained. 

They  made  much  ado,  and  sadly 
They  shook  their  heads  as  grieved  ; 

They  spoke  of  me  so  badly, — 
And  thou  hast  all  believed. 

But  what  was  the  very  saddest. 
Not  one  of  them  has  guessed  ; 

The  saddest  and  the  maddest 
Lies  hidden  in  my  breast. 


LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 


Z\>c  XlnDen  JSloeeomeD,  tbe  IFUgbttngale 

DIE  LINDE  BLUHTE,  DIE  NACHTIGALL  SANG. 

'THE  linden  blossomed,  the  nightingale  sung, 

The  sun  laughed  forth  with  joyful  face  ; 
You  kissed  me  then,  and  your  arms  'round  me  flung 
As  you  pressed  me  close  in  fond  embrace. 

The  leaves  all  fell  with  the  raven's  cry, 

The  sun  frowned  down  in  dismallest  plight  ; 

We  then  bade  each  other  an  icy  good-by, 
And  politely  you  curtsied  a  bow  most  polite. 


HEINE. 


^Because  So  Xong,  So  Xong  If  Staije^. 

UND  ALS  ICH  SO  LANGE,  SO  LANGE  GESAUMT. 

DECAUSE  so  long,  so  long  I  stayed 

In  foreign  lands,  and  dreamed  and  played, 
My  sweetheart's  patience  all  gave  way  ; 

She  sewed  a  gown  for  her  wedding-day, 
And  clasped  to  her  arms  in  wedlock's  joys 

The  most  stupid  of  all  the  stupid  boys. 

So  fair  my  love  is,  and  so  kind, 

Her  vision  sweet  lives  in  my  mind  ; 

The  violet  eyes,  the  red  cheeks  dear, 
They  glow  and  bloom  year  after  year  ; 

That  I  left  such  a  darling  verily  is 
The  most  stupid  of  all  my  stupidities. 


46  LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 


B  ipine^atee  StanDetb  Xonel^^ 

EIN  FICHTENBAUM  STENT  E  INS  AM. 

A   PINE-TREE  standeth  lonely 

In  the  north,  on  a  barren  height ; 
It  slumbers,  in  snow  and  ice  clad, 
As  in  a  mantle  white. 

It  dreameth  of  a  palm-tree 

That,  silent  and  alone. 
In  distant  Orient  mourneth. 

On  a  burning  ridge  of  stone. 


HEINE. 


DER  KOPF  SPRICHT. 

/^OULD  I  the  little  footstool  be 

Which  holds  my  love's  feet  twain, 
If  e'er  so  hard  she  stamped  on  me, 
Indeed,  I  'd  not  complain. 

(Tbe  Ibeart  Speaka. 

DAS  HERZ  SPRICHT. 

r\^  \  could  I  but  the  cushion  be 

Through  which  her  needles  go, 
If  e'er  so  hard  she  then  pierced  me. 
The  pain  would  please  me  so. 

^be  Song  Speake. 

DAS  LIED  SPRICHT, 

r\  H  !  were  the  scrap  of  paper  I 

With  which  her  curls  she  wreathes, 
I  'd  whisper  to  her,  on  the  sly, 
What  in  me  lives  and  breathes. 


48  LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 

Tap  from  tbe  n:omb  IRtee  iptctureg^ 

MANCH BILD  VERGESS'NER  ZEITEN. 

T  IP  from  the  tomb  rise  pictures 
Of  the  long-forgotten  past, 
To  me  my  life  recalling 
When  near  thine  it  was  cast. 

All  day  I  wandered,  dreaming, 
Ever  from  street  to  street  ; 

The  people  stood  and  marvelled 
One  so  mute  and  sad  to  meet. 

At  night  things  seemed  much  better, 
For  then  the  streets  were  bare  ; 

And  I  and  my  shadow,  we  wander'd 
Together  in  silence  there. 

With  footsteps  that  re-echoed 
I  crossed  the  bridge  straightway. 

And  the  moon  came  out  to  send  me 
A  grave,  but  friendly,  ray. 


HEINE.  49 


At  thy  house,  at  length,  I  halted. 
And  lifted  my  gaze  on  high  ; 

And  fastened  it  on  thy  window, — 
To  breaking  my  heart  was  nigh  ! 

I  know  that  from  thy  casement 

Thou  'st  look'd  down  many  a  night, 

Seeing  me  stand  like  a  pillar 

In  the  rays  of  the  pale  moonlight. 


so  LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 


B  foutb  ©nee  %ovc^  a  /HbalDen* 

EIN  YUNGLING  LIEBT  EIN  MADCHEN. 

A    YOUTH  once  loved  a  maiden 

Who  did  another  prefer  ; 
That  other  loved  still  another 
And  plighted  his  troth  to  her. 

The  maiden  married  in  anger, 

The  very  first  man  who  bore 
Straight  down  upon  her  pathway  ; 

The  youth  was  smitten  sore. 

It  is  an  old,  old  story, 

And  yet,  't  is  ever  new  ; 
And  the  heart  that,  by  chance,  it  striketh. 

Is  broken  right  in  two. 


HEINE. 


Mbene'er  ir  1bear  tbe  Xtttle  Song^ 

HOR'  ICH  DAS  LIEDCHEN  KLINGEN. 

\A/'HENE'ER  I  hear  the  little  song 
That  once  my  sweetheart  sang, 
It  seems  as  if  my  heart  must  break, 
So  bitter  is  its  pang. 

A  nameless  longing  drives  me  forth, — 
To  the  woodland  heights  I  go  ; 

And  there,  in  bitter  tears,  dissolves 
My  overwhelming  woe. 


LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 


%  pdncees  Came  In  Dreams  to  ^e, 

MIR    TRAUMTE  VON  EINEM  KONIGS-KIND, 

A    PRINCESS  came  in  dreams  to  me 

With  wet  and  pallid  face  ; 
We  sat  beneath  the  linden-tree 
Close-clasped  in  love's  embrace. 

"  I  do  not  want  thy  father's  throne, 

Nor  his  golden  sceptre  rare, 
His  diamond  crown  I  would  not  own, 

But  thy  sweet  self,  so  fair." 

"  That  may  not  be,"  said  she  to  me, 
' '  For  I  lie  in  my  grave  below. 

At  night  alone  I  come  to  thee 
Because  I  love  thee  so." 


HEINE. 


n:bou  'at  JSver  1baJ)  anD  Ibaet  jflR^  "fceart 

/C7/   HAB'    DICH  GEL  IE  BET    UND  LIE  BE  DICH 
NOCH, 

'T'HOU  'ST  ever  had  and  hast  my  heart ; 

Were  the  world  one  funeral  pyre, 
Out  of  its  very  wreck  would  dart 
My  love's  consuming  fire. 

And  after  I  have  loved  but  thee 
,        Until  my  hour  of  doom, 

I  *11  take  my  great  love-wound  with  me, 
To  the  eternal  tomb. 


54  LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 


©n  a  IRaDtant  Summer^/IRotnlng, 

AM  LEUCHTENDEN  SOMMERMORGEN. 

r\^  a  radiant  summer-morning 

About  the  garden  I  stray  ; 
The  flowers  talk  and  whisper — 
I  have  not  a  word  to  say. 

The  flowers  talk  and  whisper, 
With  pity  my  face  they  scan  ; 

•*  Oh  !  be  not  wroth  with  our  sister, 
Thou  sad  and  pallid  man  !  " 


HEINE.  55 

/Ifts  OLove  Sbtnea  ©at  In  IFta  (Blotg, 

ES  LEUCHTET  MEINE  LIEBE. 

IWl  Y  love  shines  out  in  its  glory 

O'ercast  by  a  darkened  light, 
Like  a  mournful  fairy  story 

That  is  told  on  a  summer's  night. 

'*  In  a  magic  garden  two  lovers 
Walk  alone,  and  say  not  a  word  ; 

The  moonlight  over  them  hovers 
And  the  nightingales  are  heard. 

**  The  maid  stands  with  unmoved  glances. 

At  her  feet  the  Knight  she  sees  ; 
Then  the  Desert  Giant  advances. 

And  the  frightened  maiden  flees. 

"  On  the  ground  the  Knight  falls,  dying  ; 

The  giant  stalks  back  to  his  home  " — 
When  I  in  my  grave  am  lying 

The  end  of  that  tale  will  have  come. 


56  LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 


Zhc^Q  Cauee^  IXsc  (Bteateet  ZTotture^ 

SIE  HA  BEN  MICH  GEQUALET. 

'T'HEY  caused  me  greatest  torture 

Till  I  nearly  cursed  my  fate, 
Some  of  them  with  their  loving, 
And  others  with  their  hate. 

My  very  drink  they  poisoned, 
They  poisoned  the  bread  I  ate, 

Some  of  them  with  their  loving. 
And  others  with  their  hate. 

But  she  who,  beyond  all  others. 
Pained,  grieved  and  tortured  me, — 

By  her  I  ne'er  was  hated 
Nor  ever  loved  she  me. 


HEINE. 


^bete  Xtes  tbe  TKIlarmtb  ot  Summer* 

ES  LIEGT  DER  HEISSE  SOMMER, 

'T'HERE  lies  the  warmth  of  summer 

Upon  thy  little  face  ; 
In  thy  little  heart  cold  winter 
Has  found  its  resting-place. 

Some  day  all  this  will  alter 

Oh,  dear  beloved  mine  ! 
On  thy  cheeks  will  lie  the  winter, 

In  thy  heart  will  summer  shine. 


58  LYRICAL   INTERLUDE. 


f  2)on't  :(i8eltcve  \\i  tbe  Ibeaven, 

/C//  GLA  UB'  NICHT  AN  DEN  HIMMEL, 

I  DON'T  believe  in  the  heaven 

Of  w^hich  the  dominies  speak, 
I  believe  but  in  thy  glances, 
They  hold  the  heaven  I  seek. 

I  don't  believe  in  the  Godhead 
Which  priestly  words  imply, 

I  believe  but  in  thy  heart,  love, 
No  other  God  have  I. 

I  don't  believe  in  the  devil. 
In  hell,  or  its  fiery  smart ; 

I  believe  but  in  thy  glances. 
And  in  thy  wicked  heart. 


59 


Wihcn  ^wo  (Take  %cnvc  of  ;i£acb  ©tber. 

WENN  ZWEI  VON  EINANDER  SCHEIDEN. 

"XA/HEN  two  take  leave  of  each  other, 

Each  presses  the  other's  hand, 
And  then  they  fall  to  weeping. 
And  sighing  without  end. 

We  did  not  shed  a  tear-drop, 

We  did  not  sigh  or  moan, — 
The  weeping  and  the  sighing 

Came  when  we  were  alone. 


6o  LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 


1F  mept  Wbilet  ir  TKIlas  Breaming* 

/CV/  HAB'  IM  TRAUM'  GE  WEI  NET. 

T  WEPT  whilst  I  was  dreaming— 
I  dreamt  they  'd  laid  thee  low  ; 
I  woke, — and  still  the  tear-drop 
Adown  my  cheek  did  flow. 

I  wept  whilst  I  was  dreaming, — 
I  dreamt  thou  'dst  gone  from  me  ; 

I  woke, — and  still  I  wept  on 
A  long  time,  bitterly. 

I  wept  whilst  I  was  dreaming, — 
I  dreamt  thou  still  lov'dst  me  ; 

I  woke, — and  yet  my  tear-flow 
Streams  on  unceasingly. 


HEINE. 


Bt  IFltQbt  In  Dreame  IT  See  tlbee,  TRabem 

ALLNACHTLICH IM  TRA  UME  SEIT  ICH DICH. 

A  T  night  in  dreams  I  see  thee,  when 

So  kindly  thou  dost  greet  ; 
And  weeping  loud  I  fling  me  then 
Down  at  thy  dear,  dear  feet. 

Thy  gaze  is  such  a  pitying  one, 
Thy  small  blonde  head  shakes  no, 

And  slowly  from  thine  eyes  there  run 
The  pearly  drops  of  woe. 

Thou  giv'st  me  a  bunch  of  cypress  flow'rs. 
And  a  whispered  word  is  heard  ; — 

I  wake  !     Gone  is  the  bunch  of  flow'rs 
And  forgotten  is  the  word  ! 


LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 


n:be  ButumnsMluD  IRattlea  tbe  JSrancbea, 

DER  HERBSTWIND  RUTTELT  DIE  BAUME. 

HTHE  autumn-wind  rattles  the  branches, 

The  night  is  cold  and  chill ; 
I  ride,  in  my  gray  cloak  folded, 
Through  the  woods  alone  and  still. 

And  as  I  ride,  my  fancies 

Are  riding  on  before  ; 
They  waft  me  lightly  onward, 

Up  to  my  sweetheart's  door. 

The  dogs  are  barking,  the  servants 

Their  lighted  candles  bring  ; 
I  rush  up  the  winding  staircase, 

My  steel  spurs  rattle  and  ring. 

In  the  brightly-curtained  chamber 

All  is  so  fragrant  and  warm  ; 
And  there  my  love  awaits  me, — 

I  fly  into  her  arm. 


HEINE.  63 


The  wind  wails  low,  and  the  oak-tree 
To  speak  these  words  doth  seem  ; 

**  What  wilt  thou,  foolish  horseman, 
With  such  a  foolish  dream  ?  " 


LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 


B  Star  Gomee  DownwarD  ffalltn^. 

ES  FALLT  EIN  STERN  HERUNTER. 

A    STAR  comes  downward  falling 

Out  of  its  glittering  height, 
It  is  the  star  of  true  love 
On  which  my  eyes  alight. 

Blossoms  and  leaves  in  plenty 

Fall  from  the  apple-tree  ; 
Then  come  the  mischievous  breezes 

And  toss  them  playfully. 

On  the  pond  the  swan  is  singing, 

And  paddling  to  and  fro  ; 
With  dying  voice  he  diveth 

To  the  watery  grave  below. 

All  's  dark  and  still,  and  the  blossoms 
And  leaves  are  scattered  like  spray  ; 

The  star  flew  crackling  to  pieces, 
And  the  song  has  died  away. 


HEINE.  65 


IRlgbt  JSroo&eD  on  /IRlne  B^eUDa. 

NA  CHT  LAG  AUF  MEINEN  A  UGEN. 

lyi  IGHT  brooded  on  mine  eyelids, 

Upon  my  mouth  lay  lead  ; 
With  head  and  heart  grown  rigid, 
In  my  grave  I  lay  as  dead. 

I  do  not  well  remember, 
How  long  I  slept  in  gloom, 

I  wakened  up — and  heard  then 
A  knocking  at  my  tomb. 

**  Wilt  not  arise,  O  Henry, 
The  judgment-day  comes  on, 

The  dead  are  all  arisen, 
Eternal  joys  begun." 

I  can't  arise,  my  darling. 

For  I  am  blinded  still 
By  all  the  bitter  tear-drops 

That  once  mine  eyes  did  fill. 


LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 


*'  But  I  will  kiss  thee,  Henry, 
And  drive  night  from  thine  eyes, 

That  thou  may'st  see  the  angels 
And  the  light  of  Paradise." 

I  can't  arise,  my  darling. 
For  still  the  blood  flows  free 

From  my  poor  heart,  once  wounded 
By  one  sharp  word  from  thee. 

**  My  hand  I  '11  lay  quite  gently, 

Oh  !  Henry,  on  thy  heart  ; 
Then  will  it  cease  its  bleeding, 

And  cured  will  be  its  smart." 

I  can't  arise,  my  darling, 

My  head  is  bleeding  too  ; 
For  when  they  stole  thee  from  me, 

I  shot  it  through  and  through. 

"  With  mine  own  tresses,  Henry, 

I  '11  stop  the  fountain  red. 
With  them,  I  '11  check  the  blood-stream, 

And  heal  thy  wounded  head." 


HEINE. 


The  voice  so  soft,  so  sweet  was, 

I  could  not  answer  no  ; 
I  tried  forthwith  to  raise  me, — 

To  my  love  I  fain  would  go. 

But  oh  !  all  of  a  sudden, 

With  a  gush,  the  old  wounds  broke. 
From  head  and  heart  the  blood  streamed- 

And  lo  !  there  I  awoke  ! 


68  LYRICAL  INTERLUDE. 


n:be  ©ID  IDinbapps  Ditties^ 

DIE  ALTEN,  BOS  EN  LIEDER. 

TTHE  old  unhappy  ditties, 

The  dreams  with  bitter  sting, 
All  these  now  let  us  bury  ; 
A  mighty  coffin  bring. 

But  what  I  shall  lay  in  it, 

As  yet,  I  '11  tell  no  one  ; 
The  coffin  must  be  larger 

Than  Heidelberg's  great  tun. 

And  bring  a  death-bier  with  it, 
Of  planks  both  thick  and  strong  ; 

This  bier  must  be  still  longer 
Than  Mayence'  bridge  is  long. 

And  bring  me  then  twelve  giants 
Who  greater  strength  have  shown 

Than  Christopher,  the  saintly, 
In  the  Minster  of  Cologne. 


HEINE. 


This  coffin  they  must  carry 
And  sink  beneath  the  wave  ; 

For  such  a  mighty  coffin 
Must  have  a  mighty  grave. 

But  know  ye  why  this  coffin 
So  heavy  and  strong  may  be  ? 

In  it  my  love  lies  buried 
And  all  my  misery. 


Ube  1bomew?ar5  Journep* 

DIE  HEIMKEHR, 


1F  1know  IRot  TDGlbat  1ba6  Come  ©'et  /ISe. 

/C//  ^r^/^^"  NICHT  WAS  SOLL  ES  BEDEUTEN. 

T  KNOW  not  what  has  come  o'er  me 

That  I  am  so  sad  to-day, 
An  old  tale  rises  before  me, 
I  cannot  drive  it  away. 

It  is  cool,  and  the  day  declineth. 
And  tranquil  the  Rhine  flows  on  ; 

The  crest  of  the  mountain  shineth 
In  the  glow  of  the  evening  sun. 

Up  there,  in  glamour  entrancing 
Sits  a  maiden,  wondrous  fair  ; 

Her  golden  jewels  are  glancing, 
She  combeth  her  golden  hair. 
71 


THE  HOMEWARD  JOURKEW 


With  golden  comb  her  tresses 
Sie  combs,  &nd  a  laj  sings  she 

Tlttt  bevildas  and  caresses 
Wltib  n^ty  mdodbf . 

Wild  voe  n  UsbosoB.  buBing 
Tlie  jmfli,  in  bis  boat,  dbrifts  by  \ 

He  sees  not  the  »biil|MMil  tanmi^. 
His  gjBse  is  fastened  onbiglL 

Mcfbinks  Ae  nvcs  wifl  bave  swalknrod 

And  Ibis,  widi  ber  song  anballofwed, 
Tbe  Lofd^  badi  done. 


HEINE.  73 


As  t)eart,  As  l)cart  ts  AourntuL 

Jff /AT  ^^^Z,  MEIN  HERZ  1ST  TRA  URIC, 

lUI  Y  heart,  my  heart  is  monmfal. 

Yet  laughs  the  bright  May-sky  ; 
I  lean  against  the  linden 
On  the  bastion  old  and  high. 

And  calmly  there,  beneath  me. 
Glides  by  the  blue  town-moat ; 

A  boy  is  rowing  and  angling 
And  whistling  in  his  boat. 

In  bright  and  tiny  medley 

Appear  on  yonder  side 
The  villas,  and  gardens,  and  people. 

Woods,  oxen,  and  meadows  wide. 

On  the  grass,  to  bleach  their  linen. 

The  playful  maidens  come  ; 
The  mill-wheel  scatters  diamonds, 

I  hear  its  distant  ham. 


THE  HOMEWARD  JOURNEY. 


Against  the  gray  old  tower 
A  sentry-box  stands  low, 

A  scarlet-coated  fellow 
Is  pacing  to  and  fro. 

He  's  playing  with  his  musket 
That  in  the  sun  gleams  red  ; 

Now  he  presents  and  shoulders- 
I  wish  he  'd  shoot  me  dead. 


HEINE. 


XTbou  Xovels  fftebermal^en^ 

DU  SCHONES  FISCHERMADCHEN. 

'T'HOU  lovely  fishermaiden. 

Come,  drive  thy  skiff  to  land, 
Come,  sit  thee  down  beside  me. 
We  '11  whisper  hand  in  hand. 

On  my  heart  thy  dear  head  pillow, 

Be  not  afraid  of  me  ; 
Dost  thou  not  fearless  venture 

Each  day  on  the  stormy  sea  ? 

My  heart  is  like  the  ocean, 
Has  storm,  and  ebb  and  flow, 

And  many  a  pearl  most  precious 
Lies  in  its  depths  below. 


76        •  THE  HOMEWARD  JOURNEY. 

XTbe  JEventng  SbaDea  2)raw  Slowly  l^iQb. 

DER  ABEND  KOMMT   GEZOGEN. 

'T'HE  evening  shades  draw  slowly  nigh, 

Dense  mists  the  ocean  screen, 
Mysteriously  the  billows  sigh, 
A  white  form  then  is  seen. 

The  sea-maid  comes  on  wat'ry  crest, 
On  the  shore,  by  me,  sits  down  ; 

The  surging  of  her  snow-white  breast 
Bursts  through  her  gossamer  gown. 

She  clasps  me  tight  and  close  doth  press. 

To  take  my  breath  away  ; — 
Oh,  far  too  strong  is  thy  caress, 

Thou  lovely  water-fay. 

' '  My  arms  do  press  and  clasp  thee  so. 

And  tightly  thee  enfold. 
Because  near  thee  I  *d  warmer  grow. 

The  night  is  far  too  cold." 


HEINE. 


Now  pale  and  paler  looks  the  moon 
Through  veil'd  clouds  far  away  ; 

More  dim  and  wet  thine  eye  has  grown 
Thou  lovely  water-fay. 

*'  My  eye  nor  wet  nor  dimmer  grows, 

It  is  so  dim  and  wet, 
Because  when  from  the  sea  I  rose 

A  drop  was  left  there  yet." 

The  gulls  in  shrill  complaining  start. 
The  wild  sea  breaks  in  spray  ; — 

So  wild  and  quickly  beats  thy  heart 
Thou  lovely  water-fay. 

'*  In  motion  wild  my  heart  I  see, 

It  beats  so  quick  and  wild, 
For  I  love  thee  inexpressibly 

Thou  lovely  human  child  !  " 


78  THE  HOMEWARD  JOURNEY. 

ffar  Out  In  IRaMance  ©'er  tbe  Sea* 

DAS  MEER  ERGLANZTE  WE  IT  HINA  US. 

pAR  out  in  radiance  o'er  the  sea 

The  parting  sunlight  shone, 
Near  the  lonely  fisher-hut  sat  we, 
We  sat  there  mute  and  alone. 

The  mist  came  up,  the  tide  rose  high, 

The  gull  flew  to  and  fro. 
And  lovingly,  from  out  thine  eye. 

Came  tear-drops,  falling  low. 

I  saw  them  fall  upon  thy  hand. 

Upon  my  knee  I  sank  ; 
And  then  from  off  thy  dear  white  hand 

The  tears  away  I  drank. 

My  body  since  that  hour  doth  fade, 
My  soul  dies  longingly, — 

For  with  her  tears  that  hapless  maid 
Alas  !  has  poisoned  me  ! 


HEINE.  79 


lapon  tbe  3Far  1borl3om 

AM  FERN  EN  HORIZONTE. 

f  TPON  the  far  horizon 

Looms,  as  in  misty  clouds, 
The  city,  with  its  tower, 

In  evening's  twilight-shrouds. 

A  humid  breeze  casts  ripples 
O'er  waters  gray  and  dark, 

With  stroke  both  sad  and  measured 
The  boatman  rows  my  bark. 

Once  more  the  sun  glows  radiant 

Before  it  sinks  to  rest, 
To  me  the  spot  unveiling 

Where  I  lost  what  I  love  best. 


THE  HOMEWARD  JOURNEY. 


ir  StooD  In  Glooms  Dreaming, 

ICH STA ND IN DUNKELN  TRAUMEN. 

T   STOOD  in  gloomy  dreaming, 

Intent  on  her  pictured  form, 
And  the  beloved  features 
With  secret  life  grew  warm. 

About  her  lips  there  quivered 
A  smile,  in  wondrous  wise  ; 

What  seemed  like  tears  of  sadness 
Was  shining  in  her  eyes. 

And  then  my  own  tears,  also. 
Came  coursing  silently, — 

Alas  !  I  cannot  believe  it. 
That  thou  art  lost  to  me  ! 


HEINE. 


^bci^  XTbtnk  Q:bat  1f  Bm  pining* 

MA N  GLA  UB T DA SS ICH  MICH  GRAME. 

'T'HEY  think  that  I  am  pining 

Of  true  love's  bitter  grief, 
And  I  myself  take  part  now 
In  other  folks'  belief. 

Thou  large-eyed  little  darling, 

I  *ve  said  to  thee  alway, 
That  I  love  thee  past  all  telling  ; 

Love  eats  my  heart  away. 

But  only  my  still  chamber 

Such  words  as  these  could  hear, 

Alas  !  I  was  ever  silent 

When  thou,  my  love,  wert  near. 

For  there  were  evil  spirits 
That  kept  my  mouth  shut  tight ; 

And  ah  !  those  evil  spirits 
Have  now  undone  me  quite. 


THE  HOMEWARD  JOURNEY. 


^beg  XoveD  JBacb  ©tber,  but  meltber, 

SIE  LIEB  TEN  SICH  BEIDE,  DOCH  KEINER. 

'T'HEY  loved  each  other,  but  neither 

Would  to  the  other  confess  ; 
Their  looks  were  dark,  but  their  bosoms 
Were  melting  with  tenderness. 

At  last  they  parted,  and  only 
In  dreams  had  meetings  rare  ; 

They  both  long  since  had  perished,  — 
Though  hardly  themselves  aware. 


HEINE.  83 


/RS  Deart  fa  Sa^  ant)  IT  Bm  2)rlvem 

DA  S  HERZ  IS  T  MIR  BEDR  UCKT  UND  SEHNLICH. 

jyyjY  heart  is  sad,  and  I  am  driven 

To  think  of  old  times  longingly, 
The  world  was  then  so  good  to  live  in, 
And  folks  jogged  on  so  peacefully. 

But  now  confusion  e'er  grows  stronger, 

There  's  naught  but  struggle,  strife,  and  dread  ; 

The  God  above  us  lives  no  longer, 
And  down  below  the  devil  's  dead. 

Of  light  and  joy  this  has  bereft  us, 
All  things  look  jangled,  rotten,  gray. 

And  were  n't  a  little  love  still  left  us. 
Our  last  support  were  snatched  away  I 


84  THE  HOMEWARD  JOURNEY. 


2)0  IRot  X06e  Bll  ©attence  mttb  ^e* 

WERDET  NURNICHT  UNGEDULDIG. 

T\  O  not  lose  all  patience  with  me 

If  my  olden  heart-ache's  sobbing 
In  the  songs  I  now  am  singing 

Can  be  heard  still  plainly  throbbing. 

Wait,  and  you  will  hear  this  echo 
Of  past  grief  resound  no  longer  ; 

And  my  songs'  new  spring  will  blossom 
In  a  heart  grown  calm  and  stronger. 


HEINE.  85 


Ibeart,  Despair  IRot,  1[  ITmplore  irt 

HERZ,  MEIN  HERZ,  SEI  NICHT  BEKLOMMEN. 

TTEART,  despair  not,  I  implore  it, 
Learn  to  bear  thy  fate's  decree  ; 
That  which  winter  took  from  thee 
Spring,  returning,  will  restore  it. 

Much  is  left  that  did  not  perish, 
Is  not  still  the  world  most  fair  ? 
All  thou  findest  lovely  there, 

All  is  thine,  to  love  and  cherish. 


86  THE  HOMEWARD  JOURNEY. 


Xtfte  to  a  fflower,  Xovel^* 

DU  BIST  WIE  EINE  BLUME. 

T  IKE  to  a  flower,  lovely 

And  pure  and  fair  thou  art  ; 
I  gaze  on  thee,  and  sadness 
Then  steals  into  my  heart. 

I  long  to  lay  in  blessing 

My  hands  on  thy  head,  and  pray 
That  God  keep  thee  so  lovely 

So  fair  and  pure  alway. 


HEINE,  87 


Cbil^  1ft  TKHoulO  JBe  G:btne  IHnDotng. 

KIND,  ES  WARE  DEIN  VERDERBEN. 

r^  HILD,  it  would  be  thine  undoing, 

And  I  try  most  earnestly 
That  thy  heart  so  dear  and  tender 
Never  glow  with  love  of  me. 

But  that  I  succeed  so  quickly, 
Almost  makes  my  spirits  fall  ; 

After  all — at  times  I  tell  me, 
Could'st  thou  love  me  after  all ! 


THE  HOMEWARD  JOURNEY. 


®b !  XTbat  tbc  Stream  ot  /Bbis  Sorrow6* 

ICH  WOLL  r  MEINE  SCHMERZEN  ERGOSSEN. 

r\^  !  that  the  stream  of  my  sorrows 

In  a  single  word  might  flow  ; 
To  the  merry  breezes  I  'd  give  it, 
That  it  merrily  forth  should  go. 

They  *d  bear  it  to  thee,  beloved, 

That  sorrow-laden  word. 
At  every  place  and  hour, 

By  thee  it  would  be  heard. 

And  when  upon  thine  eyelids 
Sleep  scarce  has  laid  its  hand. 

My  word  will  still  pursue  thee 
Into  the  dreamy  land. 


HEINE.  89 


•ffn  tbe  ipO6t*Cbat0e  Darh  IKIle  JournegcD* 

WIR  FUHREN  ALLEIN  IM  DUNK  EL  N  POST- 
WAG  EN  DIE  GANZE  NACHT. 

j  IN  the  post-chaise  dark  we  journeyed 

Alone,  the  whole  night  through  ; 
On  each  other's  heart  we  rested, 
There  jesting,  and  laughing  too. 

But  when  at  length  the  day  dawned, 
Dear  child  !  how  surprised  we  were  ! 

For  Cupid  was  seated  between  us, 
The  young  blind  passenger  ! 


THE  HOMEWARD  JOURNEY. 


n^be  iptlgrimage  to  Ikevlaar* 

DIE  WA LLFA HRT  NACH  KEVLAAR. 


'THE  mother  stood  at  the  window, 

The  son  lay  in  his  bed  ; 

'*  Here  's  a  procession,  William  ; 

Wilt  not  look  out  ?  "  she  said. 

"  I  am  so  sick,  O  mother, 
Can  see  and  hear  no  more  ; 

I  'm  thinking  of  dead  Gretchen, 
That  makes  my  heart  so  sore." 

"  Arise,  we  '11  go  to  Kevlaar, 

Take  book  and  rosary, 
And  there,  by  our  holy  mother 

Thy  sick  heart  cured  will  be." 

Now  wave  the  church's  banners. 
Now  sounds  the  church's  song  ; 

On  the  Rhine,  in  Cologne,  the  holy 
Procession  moves  along. 


HEINE. 


The  mother  follows  the  pilgrims, 
Her  son  she  leadeth  now  ; 

And  both  join  in  the  chorus  : 

"  Oh  !  Mary,  praised  be  thou  !  " 


The  holy  mother  in  Kevlaar 
Is  decked  in  her  best  array  ; 

She  's  busy,  for  there  are  plenty 
Of  sick  to  heal  to-day. 

The  sick  ones  on  her  altar 

Lay  gifts  which  they  deem  meet  ; 
There,  waxen  limbs  they  offer 

And  waxen  hands  and  feet. 

And  he  who  gives  a  wax-hand 
Feels  in  his  own  no  pain, 

And  he  who  gives  a  wax-foot 
Feels  his  grow  well  again. 

To  Kevlaar  went  many  on  crutches. 
Who  now  can  dance  in  the  air  ; 

And  many  now  play  the  fiddle 
Who  had  no  sound  finger  there. 


THE  HOMEWARD  yOURNEV. 


The  mother  took  a  wax-light 

And  formed  of  it  a  heart : 
"  Take  that  to  the  holy  mother, 

She  '11  cure  thy  deepest  smart." 

The  son  took,  sighing,  the  wax-heart. 
To  the  image  he  stepped,  with  a  sigh, 

These  words  from  his  heart  come  streaming. 
As  the  tear-drops  stream  from  his  eye  : 

"  Thou  holy  one,  most  blessed, 

Thou  purest,  God-like  maid. 
Before  thee,  queen  of  heaven. 

My  sorrows  shall  be  laid. 

*'  With  mother  I  was  living 

In  the  city  called  Cologne, 
A  town  that  has  many  hundreds 

Of  chapels  and  churches  of  stone. 

"  Next  door  to  us  lived  Gretchen, 

But  dead,  alas  !  is  she  ! 
Oh  !  Mary,  I  bring  thee  a  wax-heart, 

Heal  my  heart's  misery. 


*'  Do  thou  my  sick  heart  comfort, 
And  morn  and  night  I  '11  bow 

In  prayer,  and  sing  devoutly  : 
"  Oh  !  Mary,  praised  be  thou." 


The  sick  son  and  his  mother 
In  their  little  chamber  slept  ; 

The  holy  mother  then  entered 
And  softly  to  them  stepped. 

Low  over  the  sick  youth  bending, 
She  stopped — and  her  hand  did  lay 

Upon  his  sore  heart  gently, — 
Then  smiled,  and  passed  away. 

All  this,  and  more,  the  mother 

Saw  as  she  lay  asleep  ; 
The  dog  barked  loud  and  woke  her 

Out  of  her  slumbers  deep. 

And  there,  outstretched,  was  lying 
Her  son, — and  he  was  dead  ; 

On  his  visage  pale  was  shining 
The  early  morning-red. 


THE  HOMEWARD  JOURNEY. 


Her  hands  the  mother  folded, — 
She  felf — she  knew  not  how  ; 
She  sang  low  and  devoutly  : 

1  Mary,  praised  be  thou." 


"Oh!M 


Ube  1bart3  5onrnes* 

DIE  HARZREISE, 


©n  tbe  fountain  Stance  tbe  Cottage, 

A  UF  DEM  BERGE  STENT  DIE  HUTTE. 

r\^  the  mountain  stands  the  cottage 

Where  the  ancient  miner  lives, 
There  the  green  old  fir-tree  rustles, 
Golden  light  the  moon  there  gives. 

In  the  cottage,  carved  most  richly. 
Stands  an  arm-chair,  quaint  and  high  ; 

He  that  sits  there,  he  is  happy 
And  that  happy  one  am  I. 

On  the  footstool  sits  the  maiden, 
With  her  arm  propped  on  my  knee  ; 

Eyes  that  two  blue  stars  resemble 
And  a  rose-red  mouth  has  she. 
95 


96  THE  HARTZ  JOURNEY. 

And  the  dear,  blue  stars  then  open 
Heaven-wide  to  gaze  at  me, 

And  she  lays  her  lily-finger 
On  her  rose-lips,  playfully. 

"  No,  the  mother  does  not  see  us, 
For  she  spins  unceasingly. 

And  the  father  plays  the  zither 
To  the  ancient  melody." 

And  the  maiden  whispers  softly. 
Softly,  in  a  voice  suppressed  : — 

Many  an  important  secret 
Thus  she  poured  into  my  breast — 

**  But  since  grandame's  dead  and  buried 

We  can  nevermore  repair 
To  the  Schlitzenhof  at  Goslar, 

— And  it  is  so  lovely  there. 

"*"  Here  alas  !  it  is  so  lonely. 

On  this  mountain  cold  and  steep. 

And  in  winter  we  seem,  truly, 
Buried  in  the  snow-fall  deep. 


HEINE.  97 


*'  And  I  am  a  timid  maiden, 

Like  unto  a  child,  I  fear 
All  the  evil  mountain-goblins 

That,  at  night,  come  prowling  near." 

Sudden  stops  the  maid,  affrighted 
By  her  voice,  that  sinks  and  dies  ; 

Both  her  little  hands  she  raises 
Pressing  them  on  both  her  eyes. 

And  the  fir-tree  rustles  louder. 

And  the  spin-wheel  creaks  and  hums, 

And  the  zither's  song,  between  them. 
In  the  old  refrain  still  comes  : 

"  Have  no  fear,  thou  lovely  maiden. 

Of  the  evil  spirits'  power  ; 
For  the  angels,  dearest  maiden. 

Watch  o'er  thee  at  every  hour  !  " 


98  THE  HARTZ  JOURNEY. 

ITbe  SbepberD  JSoi^  '6  a  \Der^  Iktng* 

KONIG  1ST  DER  HIRTENKNABE. 

HTHE  shepherd  boy  *s  a  very  king, 

His  throne  is  on  a  verdant  mound, 
And  with  the  sun  above  his  head 

As  with  the  heaviest  gold  he  's  crowned. 

The  sheep  are  lying  at  his  feet, 

With  crosses  red,  soft  flatterers  they — 

The  calves,  who  are  his  Cavaliers, 
Are  strutting  proudly  on  their  way. 

The  little  goats  his  court-players  are. 
And  all  the  birds  and  all  the  kine 

Try,  with  their  flutes  and  little  bells, 
To  make  the  chamber-music  fine. 

And  all  this  sweetly  sounds  and  rings. 
And  'midst  it  all  sweet  rustlings  creep, 

Of  spruce-trees  and  of  waterfalls, 
Until  the  monarch  sinks  in  sleep. 


HEINE, 

But  in  the  meanwhile,  there  must  reign 
The  minister,  and  he  is  found 

To  be  the  dog,  whose  snarling  bark 
Is  heard  in  echoes  all  around. 

**  To  govern  is  so  very  hard," 
The  young  king  murmurs  drowsily, 

'*  Oh  !  would  that  with  my  dearest  queen, 
Already  I  at  home  might  be. 

* '  For  in  the  arms  of  my  sweet  queen 

My  royal  head  so  softly  lies. 
And  all  my  boundless  kingdom  is 

Contained  within  her  lovely  eyes." 


99 


i^rinbH  loiaqm^  b^voba 
"  vjtj  btia?,.?q  ^fid  wen  odW 


THE  HARTZ  JOVRNEY. 


•ff  Bm  tbe  pttncesa  1fl0e« 

ICH  BIN  DIE  PRINZESSIN  ILSE. 

T  AM  the  Princess  Use, 

And  Ilsenstein  's  my  home  ; 
That  we  two  may  taste  love's  rapture, 
To  my  castle  with  me  come. 

And  there  I  will  anoint  thee 
With  my  waters  clear  and  fair, 

Thy  pains  shall  be  forgotten, 
Thou  comrade  sick  with  care  ! 

In  my  white  arms  will  I  fold  thee. 

And  on  my  bosom  white 
There  shalt  thou  lie  a-dreaming 

Of  fairy-tales'  delight. 

I  '11  fondle  and  I  '11  kiss  thee. 
As  I  kissed  and  fondled,  one  day, 

Beloved  Emperor  Heinrich, 
Who  now  has  passed  away. 


HEINd.  ,  ' .  ^^f 

w  \j\^^  : 

The  dead  are  gone  forever, 

The  living  live  with  us  ; 
And  I  am  fair  and  blooming, 

My  heart  laughs,  tremulous. 

And  when  my  heart  is  laughing, 

My  crystal  palace  rings  out ; 
Then  dance  the  knights  and  maidens 

And  jubilant  vassals  shout. 

The  silken  trains  then  rustle. 

And  clanking  spurs  arc  worn. 
The  dwarfs  sound  drum  and  trumpet 

And  fiddle,  and  blow  their  horn. 

But  thou  shalt  lie  enfolded. 

Like  the  Emperor,  in  my  arm  ; 
I  stopped  his  ears  from  hearing 

The  trumpet's  wild  alarm. 


Bortbsea  C^clc, 

NORDSEE  CYCLUS. 


EPILOG. 

A  S  in  the  field  the  stalks  of  wheat, 

Thus  grow  and  sway  man's  thoughts 

Within  his  mind. 
But  the  tender  thoughts  of  poets 
Are  like  gaily  interspersed 

Red  and  blue  flowers. 

Red  and  blue  flowers  ! 
The  petulant  reaper  discards  you  as  useless, 
Wooden  flails  thresh  you  scornfully, 
Even  the  destitute  wanderer, 
Whom  a  glimpse  of  you  delights  and  refreshes, 

Shakes  his  head, 
And  calls  you  beautiful  weeds. 
103 


NORTHSEA   CYCLE. 


But  the  rustic  maiden, 

The  wreath-binder, 
Adores  you  and  plucks  you, 
And  decks  her  lovely  locks  with  you. 
And  thus  adorned,  she  hies  to  the  dancing-green 
Where  the  sweet  strains  of  pipe  and  fiddle  resound, 

Or  to  the  quiet  beech-tree 
Where  the  voice  of  the  beloved  sounds  sweeter  far 

Than  pipe  and  fiddle. 


mew  Spring* 

NEVER  FRUHLING, 


Xlbe  SlenDer  Timater^Xils^ 

DIE  SCHLANKE   WASSERLILIE. 

'T'HE  slender  water-lily 

Looks  up  from  the  lake  in  a  dream  ; 
The  moon  wafts  brightly  downward 
A  loving,  longing  beam. 

Abashed,  the  wee  head  sinketh 
And  back  to  the  waves  is  drawn  ; 

And  there,  at  her  feet,  she  findeth 
The  comrade  pale  and  forlorn. 


io6  NEW  SPRING. 


Z\^z  1R06e  1[0  Jragrant— but  Timbetbet  Sbe 
J'eeletb, 

DIE  ROSE  DUFTET—DOCH  OB  SIE  EMPFINDET. 

'T'HE  rose  is  fragrant — but  whether  she  feeleth 

All  that  she  exhales  ;  and  whether  again 
The  nightingale  feels  what  through  our  soul  stealeth 
At  t^e  sound  of  her  lovely,  echoing  strain: — 

I  know  it  not.     But  truth,  most  trying. 
Oft  chafes  our  souls  ;  and  e'en  if  we  see 

That  the  rose  and  nightingale  both  have  been  lying, 
This  lie — like  some  others — most  fruitful  may  be  ! 


.   HEINE.  107 


JiSecauae  IT  Xove  XTbee,  IF  flSust  Xeave 
tTbee^ 

fT^/Z  /C^  Z)/C/f  LIEBE.MUSS  ICH  FLIEHEND. 

OECAUSE  I  love  thee,  I  must  leave  thee  ! 

Oh  !  be  not  wroth, — I  shun  thy  face  ! 
Thy  visage  bright  and  fair,  believe  me, 
Hath  near  my  mournful  one  no  place. 

Because  I  love  thee — grow  uncomely 
My  features  sad,  and  waste  away  ; 

Perhaps,  ere  long,  thou  'It  find  me  homely — 
Oh  !  be  not  wroth, — I  will  not  stay  ! 


NEW  SPRING. 


(5entle  Cbfmea  mftb  Sweeteet  mm* 

LEISE  ZIEHT  DURCH  MEIN  GEMUTH, 

r^  ENTLE  chimes  with  sweetest  ring 

O'er  my  soul  are  stealing; 
Ring  out  little  song  of  spring, 
Through  the  distance  pealing. 

To  the  cottage  wing  thy  flight 
Where  bloom  flowers  tender  ; 

When  a  rose  there  greets  thy  sight, 
Say  my  love  I  send  her. 


HEINE. 


CTere  mas  an  BgeD  jflRonarcb. 

ES  WAR  BIN  ALTER  KONIG. 

'T'HERE  was  an  aged  monarch, 

Gray  was  his  hair,  sad  was  his  life; 
The  poor  old  monarch  married 
A  fair  and  youthful  wife. 

There  was  a  handsome  page-boy. 

Gay  was  his  heart,  blonde  was  his  hair; 

The  silken  train  he  carried 

Of  the  queen  so  young  and  fair. 

Know'st  thou  the  olden  story  ? 

It  is  so  sweet,  so  sad  to  tell. 
They  both  were  doomed  to  perish, 

They  loved  each  other  too  well. 


/iDlscellaneous^ 

VERSCHIEDENE, 


SERAPHINE. 

I 

mben  1f  ^brougb  tbe  Dreami2  fforeet 

WANDV  ICH  IN  DEM  WALD  DBS  ABENDS, 

AA7HEN  I  through  the  dreamy  forest 

Wander  on  at  eventide, 
Ever  does  thy  slender  figure 
There  go  wand'ring  by  my  side. 

Are  not  these  thy  lovely  features  ? 

Thy  white  veil  that  softly  stirs  ? 
Or  is  it  the  moonlight  only 

Breaking  thro'  the  gloomy  firs  ? 

Do  I  hear  my  own  tears  falling 
As  they  course  down  quietly  ? 

Or  dost  thou  walk  weeping,  dearest 
Verily,  there  next  to  me  ? 


MISCELLA  NEOUS. 


2 

©n  tbe  Silent  Sbotc6  of  ©ceam 

^iW  DEM  STILLEN  MEERESSTRANDE. 

r\^  the  silent  shores  of  ocean 

Dusky  night  has  fast  been  falling, 
And  the  moon  breaks  thro'  the  cloudrifts, 
And  the  waves  are  softly  calling  : 

"  Is  that  fellow  there  demented, 
Or  in  love  perhaps  ?    For  very 

Merry,  and  yet  sad  he  seemeth, 
Sad,  and  at  the  same  time  merry." 

But  the  moon  laughs  out,  and  calleth 
Clearly,  from  her  high  position  : 

"  He  *s  in  love,  and  he  's  demented, 
And  a  poet  in  addition  !  " 


HEINE. 


3 

f  See  a  TlClbite  ^ew  KonDer. 

DAS  1ST  EINE  WEISSE  MOWE. 

T  SEE  a  white  mew  yonder, 

Whose  flutt'ring  wings  are  spread 
Above  the  darkling  billows  ; 
The  moon  stands  high  o'erhead. 

The  shark  and  the  roach  are  snapping 

Out  of  their  watery  bed, 
The  mew  is  rising  and  falling  ; 

The  moon  stands  high  o'erhead. 

Oh  !  dear  heart,  ever  restless, 

Thou  'rt  stirred  with  woe  and  dread  ! 

The  water  is  too  near  thee  ; 
The  moon  stands  high  o'erhead. 


MISCELLA  NEOUS. 


4 

IT  IRnew  ^bat  Ubou  D06t  Xove  ^c» 

DAS  DU  MICH  LIEBST,  DAS  WUSST'  ICH. 

T  KNEW  that  thou  dost  love  me, 
'T  was  long  ago  made  clear  ; 

But  when  thou  did'st  confess  it, 
I  thrilled  with  sudden  fear. 

'T  is  true,  I  climb'd  the  mountains. 

And  sang  exultingly  ; 
But,  weeping,  when  the  sun  set, 

I  walked  beside  the  sea. 

My  heart  the  sun  resembles, 

So  flaming  to  the  sight  ; 
And  in  love's  endless  ocean 

It  setteth  grand  and  bright. 


HEINE. 


5 

1bow  IJClonD'rlngls  tbe  Sea*jffl^ew» 

WIE  NEUBEGIERIG  DIE  MOWE. 

OOW  wond'ringly  the  sea-mew 

Doth  over  at  us  peer, 
Because  I  press  so  closely 
Unto  thy  lips  mine  ear  ! 

She  's  longing  to  discover 
To  what  thy  lips  give  vent  ; 

If  words  indeed,  or  kisses 
Into  mine  ear  thou  'st  sent. 

Could  I  myself  but  fathom 
What  hisses  thus  into  me  ! 

Thy  words  are  with  thy  kisses 
Commingled  wondrously. 


MISCELLA  NEOUS. 


6 

Sbe  ff IcD  from  /Hbe  %Wz  a  n:imiD  Doe, 

SIE  FLOH  VOR  MIR  WIE'N  REH  SO  SCHEU. 

C  HE  fled  from  me  like  a  timid  doe, 
And  with  the  doe's  speed  vying  ; 
She  clambered  up  from  crag  to  crag, 
Her  hair  in  the  wind  was  flying. 

Where  to  the  sea  the  cliff  descends 

To  catch  her  I  succeeded, 
And  her  coy  heart  I  softened  there. 

As  with  soft  words  I  pleaded. 

Up  there  as  high  as  heav'n  we  sat, 
And  with  heav'n's  bliss  pervaded  ; 

Deep  under  us,  in  the  dusky  sea. 
The  sunlight  slowly  faded. 

Deep  under  us,  the  beauteous  sun 

Sank  in  the  dusky  ocean  ; 
The  waves  with  rapture  o'er  it  swept. 

In  turbulent  commotion. 


HEINE. 

Oh  !  do  not  weep  !     The  sun  lies  not 
Dead  'neath  those  billows  flowing, 

But  in  my  heart  has  hid  itself 
With  all  its  fire  glowing. 


1 18  M ISC  ELL  A  NEO  US. 


7 

Sba^owg  Xove  auD  Sba^owg  1kl06e6. 

SCHA  TTENKUSSE—SCHA  TTENLIEBE. 

C  HADOWY  love  and  shadowy  kisses, 
Shadowy  life,  so  wondrous  strange  ! 
Little  fool,  think'st  thou  that  this  is 
Ever  true,  and  will  not  change  ? 

Like  a  dream  fades  all  we  cherish'd, 
All  we  firmly  hoped  to  keep  ; 

Memory  from  our  hearts  has  perish'd, 
And  our  eyes, — they  close  in  sleep. 


HEINE.  1x9 


8 

^be  Damsel  StooD  bs  tbc  ©ceam 

Z>^^  FRAULEIN  STAND  AM  MEERE. 

'T'HE  damsel  stood  by  the  ocean, — 

Sighed  long  and  heavily  ; 
So  sad  't  was,  to  her  notion. 
The  setting  sun  to  see. 

Dear  miss,  pray  cease  your  fretting, 

An  old  trick  have  we  here, 
Before  us  it  is  setting. 

And  rises  in  our  rear. 


MISCELLA  NEOUS. 


9 

^^  Sbip,  witb  JSlach  Sails,  Sails  Blong* 

MIT  SCHWA  RZEN  SEGELN  SEGEL  T  MEIN 
S^HII^'F. 

AA Y  ship,  with  black  sails,  sails  along 

Far  o'er  the  raging  sea  ; 
Thou  know'st  how  sad  I  am, — and  yet, 
So  sorely  grievest  me. 

Thy  heart  is  fickle  as  the  wind, 

And  sways  unsteadily  ; 
My  ship,  with  black  sails,  sails  along 

Far  o'er  the  raging  sea. 


l)ow  Sbametulls  tibou  *0t  %ctct>. 

WIE  SCHANDLICH  DU  GEHANDELT, 

OOW  shamefully  thou  'st  acted, 

From  all  men  I  've  concealed  it  ; 
But  I  have  sailed  out  to  the  sea, 
And  to  the  fishes  revealed  it. 

Thy  name  on  dry  land,  only, 
May  still  be  thought  untainted  ; 

But  in  the  sea  is  everyone 

With  thy  disgrace  acquainted. 


MISCELLA  NEOUS. 


II 

ITbe  IRoaring  Maves* 

ES  ZIEHEN  DIE  BRA  USENDEN  WELLEN. 

'T'HE  roaring  waves  are  making 

Straight  for  the  land  ; 
They  're  swelling  and  they  're  breaking 
Upon  the  sand. 

They  come  in  endless  fashion, 

Great,  vigorous  ; 
At  last,  burst  into  passion, — 

What  helps  it  us  ? 


HEINE. 


12 

Z\^z  IRuntc  Stone  Jute  ©ut  ffrom  tbe 
:J6eacb. 

^.9 RAGT IN'S  MEER  DER  RUNENSTEIN. 

'T'HE  Runic  stone  juts  out  from  the  beach, 

There  I  sit,  as  my  thoughts  go  roaming  ; 
The  wild  wind  pipes,  the  sea-gulls  screech, 
The  billows  are  flowing  and  foaming. 

On  many  fair  girls  and  comrades  kind 
Have  I  my  love  been  bestowing  ; — 

Where  have  they  gone  ?    Wild  pipes  the  wind. 
The  billows  are  foaming  and  flowing. 


124  MIS  CELL  A  NEOUS. 


13 

^be  Sea  (Bleame  ffortb  JBeneatb  tbe  Sum 

DA  S  MEER  ERSTRA  HL  T  IM  SONNENSCHEIN. 

'T'HE  sea  gleams  forth  beneath  the  sun 

As  if  of  gold  't  were  made. 
When  I  am  dead,  my  brothers, 
In  the  sea  I  'd  fain  be  laid. 

I  've  always  loved  the  sea  so  well ; 

Its  flow  hath  soothingly 
So  oft  refreshed  my  spirit ; 

Good  friends,  indeed,  were  we. 


HEINE. 


ANGELIQUE. 
©n  :JSotb  1ber  :6se6  /[Rs  IbanD  1F  pressed* 

ICH  HAL  TE  I  MR  DIE  A  UGEN  ZU. 

r\^  both  her  eyes  my  hand  I  pressed 

As  a  kiss  from  her  I  won  ; 
And  now  she  will  not  let  me  rest, 
But  asks  wherefore  't  was  done. 

From  evening  late  until  sunrise 

She  questions  without  rest : 
"  Why  did  you  cover  both  my  eyes, 

As  your  lips  to  mine  you  pressed  ?  ** 

The  reason  why,  I  do  not  tell. 

Myself,  I  cannot  guess — 
But  both  her  eyes  I  cover  well. 

And  my  lips  to  hers  I  press. 


126  MISCELLANEOUS, 

KATHARINE. 
Xong  TDdas  IT  Songleea  an5  BejecteD* 

GESANGLOS  WAR  ICH  UND  BEKLOMMEN, 

T  ONG  was  I  songless  and  dejected, 
But  now  my  muse  returns  to  me  ; 
Just  as  our  tears  come  unexpected, 
So  come  our  songs,  quite  suddenly. 

Once  more  I  sing,  in  rhythmic  measure, 
Of  love  so  great,  and  greater  woe. 

Of  hearts  that  quarrel  in  displeasure. 
Yet  break,  when  far  apart  they  go. 

At  times,  methinks,  I  feel  the  flutter 
Of  German  oak-leaves  o'er  my  brow — 

Of  meetings  too,  they  seem  to  mutter, — 
But  these  are  dreams — they  vanish  now. 

Anon  sweet  strains  with  rapture  fill  me. 
The  German  nightingale's  old  lay — 

How  tenderly  the  soft  notes  thrill  me  ! — 
But  these  are  dreams — they  die  away. 


HEINE. 


Where  are  the  roses  that  delighted 

My  fond  heart  once  ? — Long  since  was  spent 
Their  bloom,  alas  ! — Their  shades  benighted 

Still  haunt  my  soul  with  ghostly  scent. 


poems  of  tbe  Zimcs. 

ZEITGEDICHTE. 


migbt  XTbougbte* 

NA  CHTGEDA  NKEN. 

A  T  night  I  think  of  Germany, 

And  then  all  slumber  flies  from  me  ; 
I  can  no  longer  close  mine  eyes, 
The  hot  and  bitter  tears  will  rise. 

The  years  pass  close  upon  each  other  ; 

And  since  I  last  beheld  my  mother, 
Full  twelve  long  years  have  come  and  gone. 

And  ever  has  my  yearning  grown. 

My  wistful  yearning  e'er  has  grown, 
For  o'er  my  soul  a  spell  she  's  thrown  ; 

From  her  my  thoughts  I  cannot  sever, 
The  dear  old  dame — God  bless  her  ever  ! 
129 


POEMS  OF  THE   TIMES. 


She  loves  me  well,  the  dear  old  dame, 
And  in  the  lines  that  from  her  came, 

'T  is  proven  by  the  words  all  blurred 
How  deep  her  mother's  heart  was  stirred. 

My  mother  *s  in  my  mind  alway  ; 

Full  twelve  long  years  have  passed  away, 
Full  twelve  long  years  have  joined  the  past 

Since  to  my  heart  I  clasped  her  last. 

Oh  !  Germany  will  ever  stand  ! 

It  is  a  strong  and  healthy  land, 
And  with  its  oak,  and  linden  trees 

I  'm  sure  to  find  it,  when  I  please. 

I  should  not  thirst  for  Germany  so. 
Did  I  not  there  my  mother  know  ; 

The  fatherland  will  ever  stay, — 
The  mother  may  be  called  away. 

Since  I  have  left  my  native  land. 
On  many  Death  has  laid  its  hand  ; 

I  loved  them  once — I  call  the  roll 
And  count  them  now  with  bleeding  soul. 


HEINE. 


Count  them  I  must ;  yet,  as  I  count, 
Still  higher  does  my  torture  mount, 

As  if  the  corpses,  one  by  one, 

Climbed  on  my  breast ! — Thank  God,  they  're 


Thank  God !  now,  through  my  window,  glance 
The  cheerful  morning  rays  of  France. 

My  wife  comes  with  Aurora's  bloom 
To  smile  away  the  German  gloom  ! 


POEMS  OF  THE    TIMES. 


(Berman^. 

DEUTSCHLAND, 

r^  ERMANIA'S  fame  will  I  extol, 

Oh  !  hearken  to  my  finest  verse. 
Yet  high  and  higher  soars  my  soul, 
And  purest  joys  my  heart  traverse. 

Before  me  lies  the  Book  of  Life  : 
The  many  changes  earth  did  see, 

'  Twixt  good  and  bad  the  constant  strife,- 
All  this  is  now  made  clear  to  me. 

From  distant  Frankish  land  once  came 
Hell's  darkest  spirits,  shrewd  and  sly, 

Who  brought  disgrace  and  direst  shame 
On  pious,  good  old  Germany. 

Of  all  belief  and  virtue  fair, 

Of  all  our  faith  in  heav'nly  gain, 

Of  all  our  good  they  laid  us  bare, — 
And  gave  us  naught  but  sin  and  pain. 


HEINE. 


Oh  !  then  did  German  sunlight  pale  ! 

It  will  not  shine  on  German  shame  ; 
And  hollow  sounds  of  funeral  wail, 

Out  of  the  German  oak-trees  came. 

But  suddenly  the  sun  grew  bright  ; 

The  oak-tree  waves  a  joyous  strain  ; 
There  come  the  judges  of  the  right, 

Avenging  all  our  shame  and  pain. 

The  altars  of  deceit  now  shake, 
And  fall  into  the  seething  broil, 

All  German  hearts  to  thanks  awake, — 
Now  free  is  sacred  German  soil  ! 

' '  See'st  on  the  hills  the  flames  shoot  high  ? 

Oh  !  say,  why  sweeps  the  fire  along  ?  " 
'*  Those  flames  so  fierce  exemplify 

Germania's  image,  pure  and  strong." 

Released  from  evil's  sinful  yoke, 

Now,  all  unharmed,  stands  Germany  ; 

And  still  the  gloomy  spot  doth  smoke. 
From  which  the  lovelier  form  rose  free. 


134  POEMS  OF  THE   TIMES. 

The  ancient  oak-stems  now  unfold 

Their  blossoms  new,  and  wondrous  sweet  ; 

Strange  blossoms  fade,  and  rustlings  old 
Familiarly  the  senses  greet. 

Now  all  that  's  lovely  comes  anew, 
All  good  returns  without  alloy, 

And  every  German,  staunch  and  true, 
Most  gladly  hails  his  German  joy. 

The  olden  virtues,  olden  ways. 
The  hero's  courage,  old  and  good, 

The  German  youth  his  sword  now  sways, 
For  Hermann's  grandson  fears  no  blood. 

A  hero  never  breeds  a  dove  ; — 
Most  lion-like  is  Hermann's  air, 

But  firm  belief  and  trust  in  God 
Should  equally  with  courage  pair. 

Their  sorrows  taught  the  German  how 
Christ's  lessons  should  be  understood  ; 

All  Germans  are  close  brothers  now, — 
Humanity  alone  is  good. 


HEINE. 

Once  more  is  heard  the  ancient  lyre, 
With  minstrel's  song  again  we  're  blest  ; 

Oh  !  gentle  muse,  thou  dost  attire 
In  lovely  garb  the  hero's  breast. 

Against  the  French  he  went  to  war, 
And  waged  a  hot  and  bitter  fight  ; 

Their  false  oaths  to  avenge  he  swore. 
Dispensing  death  with  bloody  might. 

At  home  our  German  women  rose 

To  soothe,  with  soft  hands,  bitter  need, 

And  bind  the  sacred  wounds  of  those 
Who  for  the  Fatherland  did  bleed. 

In  festive  garb — though  black  her  dress — 
The  lovely  German  woman  beams. 

Rare  gems  and  flow'rs  her  form  caress, 
Her  belt  of  diamonds  brightly  gleams. 

But  lovelier,  by  far,  is  she, 

Methinks,  when  low  I  see  her  bend 

Down  o'er  the  sick-bed,  lovingly, 
And  there  her  soothing  cares  extend. 


X36  POEMS  OF  THE   TIMMS. 

For,  angel-like  doth  she  appear 
With  soothing  draught,  so  tenderly 

The  wounded  warrior's  death  to  cheer, — 
Whose  parting  glance  smiles  gratefully. 

To  earn  a  hero's  place  of  rest 

On  battle-ground, — ah,  that  is  sweet  ! 

To  breathe  one's  last  on  woman's  breast, — 
For  gods  such  Paradise  is  meet. 

Alas  !  you  poor,  poor  sons  of  France, 
On  you  Dame  Fortune  does  not  smile  ! 

For,  on  the  Seine,  the  fair  one's  glance 
Did  covet  but  your  gold  so  vile. 

Oh  !  German  women,  German  women  ! 

These  words  enfold  a  magic  charm 
Oh  !  German  women,  German  women, 

May  time  preserve  you  from  all  harm  ! 


IRew  Songs* 

NEUE  LIEDER, 


BIN  WEIB. 

T^HEY  loved  each  other  past  belief  ; 
A  rogue  was  she,  and  he  a  thief  ; 
And  when  his  crimes  he  went  about, 

She  laughed — full  on  her  bed  stretched  out. 

The  days  went  by  in  joy  and  play, 
At  night  upon  his  breast  she  lay, 

And  when  to  jail  they  led  him  out, 

From  the  window  came  her  merry  shout. 

He  sent  her  word  "  Oh,  come  to  me. 

So  greatly  do  I  long  for  thee, 
I  call  on  thee,  I  pine  for  thee  " — 

She  shook  her  head,  still  laughingly. 
137 


138  NEW  SONGS. 


They  hanged  him  up  at  six  in  the  morn, 
At  seven  he  lay  in  his  grave  forlorn  ; 

But  she — at  eight  already  quaffed 
Her  purple  wine,  and  gaily  laughed. 


HEINE. 


FR  UHLINGSFEIER. 

"1X7 ITH  such  sad  bliss  doth  Spring  delude  ! 
The  blooming  maids,  the  savage  flocks, 
Onward  they  storm,  with  flying  locks 
And  cries  of  pain,  and  bosoms  nude: — 
"  Adonis  !  Adonis  !  " 

The  night  descends.     The  torchlight  gleams, 
As  to  and  fro  they  scour  the  wood, 
Which  echoes  to  their  frenzied  mood. 

Their  cries  and  laughter,  sobs  and  screams: — 
''  Adonis  !  Adonis  !  " 

The  lovely  youth,  surpassing  fair, 

Stretched  on  the  ground  lies  pale  and  dead, 
His  blood  dyes  all  the  flowers  red. 

And  sounds  of  wailing  fill  the  air: — 
"Adonis  !  Adonis  !  " 


NEW  SONGS. 


IKabat  ir  1bave,  Bsk  IRot,  /IR^  Barling, 

FRAG'   NICHT,  LIEBCHEN,   WAS ICH HABE. 

"1X7 HAT  I  have,  ask  not,  my  darling, 

Ask  me  rather  what  I  am  ; 
For  I  have  no  mighty  treasures. 
Yet  both  good  and  true  I  am. 

Ask  me  not  just  how  my  life  's  spent, 
But  for  whom — that  ask  of  me  ; 

For  my  life  is  poor  and  lonely, 
But  my  life  is  spent  for  thee. 

Ask  me  not  what  are  my  pleasures, 
Ask  me  not  what  is  my  pain  ; 

For  by  joy  is  he  deserted 

Whose  poor  heart  is  rent  in  twain. 


HEINE. 


DIE  LEHRE. 

IVA OTHER  to  little  bee  : 

*'  Candle-light  shun,"  says  she  ; 
But  to  these  words,  indeed. 
Little  bee  pays  no  heed. 

Near  the  light  does  he  come, 

Singing  his  hum-hum-hura, — 
Mother's  cry  hears  not  he  : 
"  Little  bee,  little  bee." 

Young  blood  has  lost  its  head, 

Darts  in  the  flame  so  red  ; 
Into  the  flame  darts  he, 

•'Little  bee,  little  bee." 

Flame  bursts  out  flaringly. 
Dealing  death  glaringly ! 
*'  Maidens  wee  must  thou  shun, 
Little  son,  little  son  ! " 


GOETHE. 


143 


poems* 

GEDICHTE, 


Zhz  TKIlanD'ter'0  natgbt  Song^ 

DES  WANDERER'S  NACHTLFED. 

/^N  every  hill 
All  is  still ; 
Scarce  a  breeze 
Stirs  the  trees* 
Topmost  nest. 
The  birds,  in  the  woods,  hush  their  song. 
Wait,  thou  too,  ere  long, 
Wilt  have  rest. 


'4^ 


X46  POEMS. 


©cean  Calm* 

MEERESS  TILLE. 

IN  the  water  reigns  deep  silence, 

Without  motion  broods  the  sea, 
On  its  smooth  expanse  the  sailor 

Rests  his  glances  anxiously. 
Not  a  breeze  from  any  quarter, — 

Awful  stillness  of  the  grave. 
Thro*  the  boundless  space  of  water 

Nowhere,  nowhere  stirs  a  wave. 


GOETHE. 


GLUCKLICHE  FAHRT. 

T^HE  mists  are  dispersing, 
Serene  are  the  heavens, 
And  iEolus  loosens 

The  anxious  band. 
Fresh  breezes  now  flurry. 

The  sailor  bestirs  him  ; 
Oh,  hurry  !  oh,  hurry  ! 

The  billows  part  lightly. 
The  distance  approacheth, — 

Lo  !  there  is  the  land  ! 


148  POEMS. 


SCHWEIZERLIED, 

/^N  a  hill-top 

Was  I  sitting, 
And  the  birdies 

Watched  t; 
They  were  singing, 

They  were  springing, 
Nest-building 

On  high. 

In  a  garden 

Was  I  standing, 
Watched  the  busy 

Bees  swarm  ; 
Buzzing,  humming, 

Quickly  coming. 
Their  cells  there 

To  form. 


GOETHE. 


To  a  meadow 
Then  I  wander'd, 

Watched  the  butter- 
Flies  play  ; 

Sipping  sweetly, 
Rising  fleetly, 

Oh !  so  pretty 
Were  they. 

And  now  up  comes 

My  Hansel ; 
To  him,  gladly, 

I  show 
How  't  was  done,  then, — 

And  in  fun,  then. 
We  do  it 

Just  so. 


ISO  POEMS. 


^be  Bugler. 

DER    FISCHER. 

TTHE  water  surged,  the  water  swelled, 

An  angler  sat  on  the  shore  ; 
Gazed  calmly  at  the  rod  he  held. 

His  heart  cool  to  the  core. 
And  as  he  sits  and  as  he  lists. 

The  flood  uplifts  and  parts. 
And  then  out  from  the  surging  mists 

A  wat'ry  maiden  starts. 

She  spoke  to  him,  she  sang  to  him  : 

"  Why  lure  my  brood  on  high, 
With  human  wit  and  human  wiles, 

Where  in  the  glare  they  die  ? 
Oh  !  if  thou  knew'st  how  cosily 

Here,  the  little  fishes  dwell. 
Thou  would'st  come  down,  as  thou  art,  to  me, 

And  then  thou  would'st  grow  well. 


GOETHE. 


"  Is  not  the  moon,  the  dear  sun  too, 

Soothed  by  the  ocean's  flow  ? 
As  wave  on  wave  they  breathe  anew, 

Do  they  not  lovelier  grow  ? 
Does  not  the  sky's  deep  glow  tempt  thee, 

Its  moist,  translucent  blue  ? 
Would'st  not  thy  own  face  mirrored  see, 

Here,  in  eternal  dew?" 

The  water  surged,  the  water  swelled. 

Wet  his  bare  foot  above  ; 
His  soul  yearned  forth,  as  tho*  impelled 

By  greetings  from  his  love  ! 
She  spoke  to  him,  she  sang  to  him, 

— Then  all  with  him  was  o'er — 
Half  drew  she  him,  half  yielded  he, — 

And  then  was  seen  no  more. 


POEMS. 


IDanitae  IDanttatum, 

r\^  nothing  have  I  set  my  heart, 

Heyday  ! 
Thus  so  much  good  doth  life  impart, 

Heyday  ! 
And  he  who  would  my  comrade  be, 
Must  glasses  clink,  sing  merrily, 
And  drain  this  wine  with  me. 

On  gold  and  gain  my  heart  set  I, 

Heyday  ! 
But  joy  and  mirth  I  lost  thereby, 

Lackaday ! 
The  coin  went  rolling  all  around. 
If  in  one  spot  I  thought  *t  was  found, 
To  another  it  would  bound  ! 

I  set  my  heart  on  women,  next, 

Heyday  ! 
But  grievously  was  I  then  vex*d, 

Lackaday ! 


GOETHE.  153 


The  false  one  other  lovers  sought, 
The  true  one  was  a  bore,  methought, 
The  best  could  not  be  bought. 

I  set  my  heart  on  travels  wide, 

Heyday  ! 
Far  from  my  native  land  I  hied, 

Lackaday  ! 
And  things  to  me  seemed  nowhere  right, 
Strange  fare  by  day,  hard  bed  by  night, 
None  understood  me  quite. 

I  set  my  heart  on  honor  and  fame, 

Heyday ! 
Lo  !  others  soon  won  more  of  a  name, 

Lackaday  ! 
When  I  at  last  had  risen  high. 
All  folks  looked  then  on  me  awry, 
None  could  I  satisfy. 

I  set  my  heart  on  fray  and  fight, 

Heyday  ! 
And  many  a  battle  we  won  outright, 

Heyday  ! 


POEMS. 


To  hostile  lands  did  we  repair, 

Our  friends  were  doom'd  no  better  to  fare, 

And  I  a  leg  lost  there. 

Now  I  've  set  my  heart  on  naught,  you  see, 

Heyday  ! 
And  all  the  world  belongs  to  me  ! 

Heyday  ! 
Our  song  and  feasting  all  must  stop  ; 
Now  all  this  wine,  let  's  drink  it  up. 
Out  with  the  very  last  drop  ! 


GEIBEL. 


GEDICHTE, 


©  Zbcxctoxc  1f0  tbe  Spring  00  JSrlgbt. 

O  VARUM  1ST  DER  LENZ  SO  SCHON. 

r\  THEREFORE  is  the  Spring  so  bright 

With  music,  flow'rs,  and  sun, 
Because  o'er  dale  and  mountain  height 
Its  song  must  soon  pass  on. 

And  therefore  does  love's  ecstasy 

Such  blissful  dreams  inspire, 
Because  like  blossoms  on  the  tree 

They  languish  and  expire. 

And  yet,  they  leave  so  warm  a  glow, 
Such  wealth  our  hearts  to  bless  ! 

Sweet  love,  high  rapture  did  I  know. 
E'en  that  is  happiness ! 

^57 


158  POEMS. 

Throughout  the  scanty  day  my  breast 
Drank  in  each  golden  ray  ; 

The  glorious  sun  has  sunk  to  rest, 
And  now  let  come  what  may. 

If  blessings  new,  if  bitter  woe, 

I  will  accept  it  all ; 
The  treasure  in  my  heart  below 

Is  mine,  whatever  befall ! 


GEIBEL.  159 


(Tbe  poor  (3ooD:=tor5=1Rotbing. 

DER  ARME  TAUGENICHTS. 

TT,  verily,  is  not  my  fault 

That  my  poor  nose  is  all  awry, 
And  that  at  the  tavern  't  is  easier  to  halt 

Than  to  work  at  the  plough,  in  the  fields  near  by  ; 
And  that  for  the  miller's  child  I  care 

Much  more  than  for  our  portly  priest ! 
But  I  waste  my  breath — this  bad  world  ne  *er 

Can  understand  me  in  the  least  ! 

The  miller's  a  grim  old  fellow,  forsooth  ! 

A  good-for-nothing  he  says,  am  I  : 
And  the  village-folk  all  take  this  for  truth. 

And  his  rosy  daughter  joins  in  the  cry  ! 
At  the  mill-brook  she  spies  me,  and  pulls  a  long  face. 

And  turns  up  her  dear  little  nose  in  disdain. 
Contriving  to  do  this  with  so  much  grace 

That  with   anger  and  love  my  heart  bursts   ii^ 
twain ! 


x6o  POEMS. 

Now  out  to  the  trees  my  sorrow  I  bring, 

But  they  are  so  mute,  but  they  are  so  cool  ; 
The  cuckoo  and  bullfinch  mockingly  sing 

And  the  beetles  are  buzzing :    Thou  fool,  thou 
fool! 
If  this  goes  on,  if  things  soon  don't  mend, 

Then  here  in  the  village,  I  '11  stand  it  no  more. 
Across  the  big  forest  my  footsteps  I  '11  wend, 

And  fiddle  my  way  then  from  door  to  door  ! 


GEIBEL.  i6i 


f  n  BpriL 

IM  APRIL, 

/^H,  dewey  eve  in  spring-time, 

How  fond  of  thee  am  I  ! 
The  sky  with  clouds  is  curtain'd, 
A  few  stars  gleam  on  high. 

What  seems  like  love's  soft  breathing 

The  balmy  air  exhales  ; 
The  violet's  sweet  perfume 

Ascends  from  all  the  dales. 

A  song  just  like  this  evening 

I  fain  would  waft  aloft ; 
But  I  find  none  that  soundeth 

So  dark,  so  mild  and  soft. 


POEMS. 


©  Still  ^bi6  BrOent  Kearntn^ ! 

O  STILLE  DIES  VERLANGEN ! 

r\  STILL  this  ardent  yearning, 

Soothe  this  sweet  agony  ! 
To  clasp  thee  I  am  burning, 

Let  thy  lover  come  to  thee  ! 
E'en  now  the  world  lies  dreaming, 

Night  sheds  its  fragrant  dew  ; 
The  moon,  from  her  blue  vault  beaming, 

Keeps  watch  o'er  lovers  true. 
On  those  with  fond  love  burning 

She  beams  most  tenderly. 
O  still  this  ardent  yearning, 

Let  thy  lover  come  to  thee  ! 

Like  fire  that  sweetly  consumes  me. 

Thou  glowest  in  my  heart  ; 
O  lift  the  veil  that  dooms  me 

From  thee  to  keep  apart ! 


GEIBEL.  163 

To  thy  red  lips  let  me  cling  then 

And  drink  thy  soul  divine, 
My  own  soul  I  will  bring  then 

And  yield  it  up  for  thine — 
O  still  this  ardent  yearning, 

Soothe  this  sweet  agony  ! 
To  clasp  thee  I  am  burning, 

Let  thy  lover  come  to  thee  ! 

The  golden  stars  send  greeting 

Down  from  the  heavens  bright  ; 
Kisses  and  whispers  are  fleeting 

Mysterious,  through  the  night. 
And  even  the  little  flowers 

Their  heads  with  longing  move, 
The  nightingales  sing  in  the  bowers  ; 

Thou,  too,  may'st  dream  and  love  ! 
O  still  this  ardent  yearning, 

Let  thy  lover  come  to  thee  ! 
In  dreams  with  passion  burning 

We  two  shall  blessM  be. 


1 64  POEMS. 


(5on&oltera» 


GONDOLIERA . 


r\  COME  to  me  when  thro'  the  night 

The  starry  legions  ride  ! 
Then, o'er  the  sea,  in  the  moonshine  bright, 

Our  gondola  will  glide. 
The  air  is  soft  as  a  lover's  jest, 

And  gently  gleams  the  light, 
The  zither  sounds,  and  thy  soul  is  blest 

To  join  in  this  delight. 
O  come  to  me  when  thro'  the  night 

The  starry  legions  ride  ! 
Then  o'er  the  sea,  in  the  moonshine  bright 

Our  gondola  will  glide. 

This  is  the  hour  for  lovers  true, 

Darling,  like  thee  and  me  ; 
Serenely  smile  the  heavens  blue 

And  calmly  sleeps  the  sea. 


GEIBEL.  165 

And  as  it  sleeps,  a  glance  will  say 

What  speech  in  vain  has  tried  ; 
The  lips  then  do  not  shrink  away, 

Nor  is  a  kiss  denied. 
O  come  to  me  when  thro'  the  night 

The  starry  legions  ride  ! 
Then  o'er  the  sea,  in  the  moonshine  bright 

Our  gondola  will  glide. 


POEMS. 


Xet  IWo  ©ne  Baft  thz  lE\?er. 

WOLLE  KEINER  MICH  ERA  GEN. 

I   ET  no  one  ask  me  ever 

Why  beats  my  heart  so  high, 
For  I,  myself,  can  never 
Tell  the  reason  why. 

My  dizzy  brain  is  reeling, 
And  dream-like  all  has  grown  ; 

My  every  thought  and  feeling 
Is  thine  alone. 

Since  first  thine  eyes  did  bless  me, 
I  *m  lost  to  time  and  space  ; 

To  my  heart  I  fain  would  press  thee 
And  die  in  thine  embrace. 

My  life — I  'd  gladly  give  it, 
For  a  single  smile  from  thee, 

And  thou — must  I  believe  it  ? — 
Deniest  it  me  ! 


GEIBEL.  167 


Is  't  fate,  or  thy  own  will,  dear, 
That  blind  to  me  thou  art  ? 

Now  weep  I  here,  quite  still,  dear. 
Till  breaks  my  heart. 


i68  POEMS. 


(31rlbooD'0  SoxiQQ. 


MA  DCHENLIEDER. 


HTHE  pinks  that  I  so  cherish, 
Each  with  its  purple  star,- 
Now  all  of  them  must  perish, 
For  thou  art  far  ! 


The  flames  once  gladly  tended 
Upon  my  hearth,  now  are 

In  smoke  and  ashes  ended, 
For  thou  art  far ! 

Life's  joys  no  longer  win  me, 
I  see  nor  flower,  nor  star  ; 

My  heart  is  dead  within  me 
For  thou  art  far  ! 


C  EI  BEL.  169 

II. 

LJOW  bright  the  sun  was  beaming, 

The  trees  all  blossom'd  in  May, 
Thine  eyes  with  love  were  gleaming — 
That 's  passed  away  ! 

Long  since  the  buds  have  perished, 

For  Autumn's  work  was  swift  ; 

The  blissful  dreams  I  cherish'd, — 
In  the  wind  they  drift  ! 


POEMS. 


ANTWORT. 

VOU  ask  me  why,  dear  maiden, 
My  songs  with  tears  are  laden  ? 
What  grieves  me  must  I  say  ? 
My  spring  has  passed  untasted, 
My  youth  in  dreams  been  wasted, 
My  love  been  trifled  away. 

Life's  cup  swelled  higher  and  higher. 
To  drink  I  lacked  desire, — 

I  let  the  cup  pass  on  ; 
Figs,  grapes,  from  green  vines  pending, 
With  sweet  pomegranates  blending. 

Lured  me, — I  would  have  none  ! 

As  evening  then  came  stealing, 
The  glorious  sun  concealing. 

My  thirst  awoke  at  last ; 
But  then  the  cup  had  vanish'd. 
The  luscious  fruits  were  banish'd. 

And  night  was  falling  fast. 


GEIBEL. 


Now,  by  the  world  forsaken, 
Out  to  the  streets  I  've  taken 

My  sorrow's  piteous  lay  : 
My  spring  has  passed  untasted 
My  youth  in  dreams  been  wasted, 

My  love  been  trifled  away. 


172  POEMS. 


B0  irt  mm  Ibappen* 

IV IE  ES  GEHT. 

"  LJE  loves  thee  not  !  He  trifles  but  with  thee  ! " 
They  said  to  her,  and  then  she  bowed  her 
head, 
And  pearly  tears,  like  roses'  dew,  wept  she. 
Oh  !  that  she  ever  trusted  what  they  said  ! 
For  when  he  came  and  found  his  bride  in  doubt, 
Then,  from  sheer  spite,  he  would  not  show  his 
sorrow  ; 
He  played  and  drank  and  laughed,  day  in  day  out, — 
To  weep  from  night  until  the  morrow  ! 

'T  is  true,  an  angel  whispered  in  her  heart : 

' '  He  *s  faithful  still,  Oh  !  lay  thy  hand  in  his  "  : 
And  he,  too,  felt  'midst  grief  and  bitter  smart : 

"  She  loves  thee  !  After  all,  thy  love  she  is  ; 
Let  but  a  gentle  word  pass  on  each  side, 

The  spell  that  parts  you  now,  will  then  be  broken  !'' 
They  came — each  looked  on  each — Oh  !  evil  pride  ! — 

That  single  word  remained  unspoken  ! 


GEIBEL.  173 

They  parted  then.     As  in  a  church  one  oft 

Extinguished  sees  the  altar  lamps'  red  fires, 
Their  light  grows  dim,  then  once  more  flares  aloft 

In  radiance  bright — and  thereupon  expires, — 
So  died  their  love  ;  at  first  lamented  o'er, 

Then  yearned  for  ardently,  and  then — forgotten, 
Until  the  thought  that  they  had  loved  before. 

Of  mere  delusion  seemed  begotten  ! 

But  sometimes,  when  the  moon  shone  out  at  night, 

Each  started  from  his  couch  !  Ah,  was  it  not 
Bedewed  with  tears  ?  And  tears,  too,  dimmed  their 
sight, 

Because   these   two  had  dreamed — I   know   not 
what ! 
And  then  the  dear  old  times  woke  in  their  heart, 

Their  foolish  doubts,  their  parting,  that  had  driven 
Their  souls  so  far,  so  very  far  apart, — 

Oh  !    God,  let  both  now  be  forgiven  ! 


POEMS. 


See'6t  ^bou  tbe  Sea? 

SI  EH  'ST  DU  DAS  MEER  ? 

C  EE'ST  thou  the  sea  ?  The  sun  gleams  on  its  wave 

With  splendor  bright  ; 
But  where  the  pearl  lies  buried  in  its  cave 

Is  deepest  night. 

The  sea  am  I.     My  soul,  in  billows  bold, 

Rolls  fierce  and  strong  ; 
And  over  all,  like  to  the  sunlight's  gold, 

There  streams  my  song. 

It  throbs  with  love  and  pain  as  though  possessed 

Of  magic  art, 
And  yet,  in  silence  bleeds,  within  my  breast. 

My  gloomy  heart. 


G  EI  BEL. 


Separation,  Deeolation. 

SCHEIDEN,  LEIDEN. 

'T'HOUGH  thou  art  gone,  though  thou  art  far 

And  angry  still  with  me, 
Yet  my  thoughts,  full  of  sadness,  are 

All  day  and  night  with  thee. 
They  dwell  upon  thy  dear  blue  eyes 

And  on  thy  heart  divine — 
Oh,  no  one  shall  I  ever  find 

Whose  love  can  be  like  thine  ! 

The  world  stood  wreathed  in  flowers  bright 

While  yet  I  was  with  thee  ; 
The  tree-tops  rustled  from  each  height, 

The  moon  beamed  tenderly. 
Thou  culled'st  a  rose,  I  kissed  thee  then 

And  sang  as  thy  lips  touched  mine  ; 
Oh,  no  one  shall  I  ever  find 

Whose  love  can  be  like  thine. 


1/6  POEMS. 


*T  is  true,  I  *m  free  as  the  falcon  bold 

That  skyward  wings  his  flight, 
And  who  this  fair  world  may  behold 

All  bathed  in  golden  light  ; 
But  he  has  a  cosy  nest, — and  where 

Shall  I,  some  day,  recline  ? 
Oh,  no  one  shall  I  ever  find 

Whose  love  can  be  like  thine  ! 

Oh,  bitter  hour,  oh,  bitter  day 

That  tore  us  two  apart ! 
Since  then  all  joy  has  fled  away 

And  peace  has  left  my  heart. 
Now  I  may  roam  o'er  land  and  sea 

But  rest  will  ne'er  be  mine  ; 
Oh,  no  one  shall  I  ever  find 

Whose  love  can  be  like  thine  ! 


GEIBEL.  177 

©nwarO. 

VORWARTS. 

/^EASE  thy  dreaming  !     Cease  thy  quailing  ! 

Wander  on  untiringly. 
Though  thy  strength  may  all  seem  failing, 
Onward  !  must  thy  watchword  be. 

Durst  not  tarry,  tho'  life's  roses 
'Round  about  thy  footsteps  throng, 

Tho'  the  ocean's  depth  discloses 
Sirens,  with  their  witching  song. 

Onward  !  onward  !  ever  calling 

On  thy  muse,  in  life's  stern  fray. 
Till  thy  fever'd  brow  feels  falling 

From  above,  a  golden  ray. 

Till  the  verdant  wreath,  victorious. 
Crown  with  soothing  shade  thy  brow  ; 

Till  the  spirit's  flames  rise  glorious 
Over  thee,  with  sacred  glow. 


POEMS. 

Onward  then,  through  hostile  fire, 
Onward  thro'  death's  agony  ! 

Who  to  heaven  would  aspire, 
Must  a  valiant  warrior  be. 


GEIBEL. 


HOFFNUNG. 

I    ET  Winter  threaten  as  it  will, 

And  with  fierce  mien  distress  thee, 
Though  snow  and  ice  he  scatter, — still 
Spring  must  return  to  bless  thee. 

What  tho'  dense  mists,  in  mountain-piles. 
The  sun's  rays  now  hold  captured. 

One  of  these  days,  beneath  its  smiles, 
The  world  will  wake,  enraptured. 

Blow  on,  ye  storms  !     Blow  on  with  might, 

I  know  no  timorous  feeling  ; 
For  after  all,  Spring,  over  night. 

Will  come,  on  tiptoe  stealing. 

All  clad  in  green  then  wakes  the  earth, 
What  happened,  she  'd  fain  discover  ; 

She  laughs  to  the  sunny  heavens  in  mirth, 
With  bliss  she  is  brimming  over, 


i8o  POEMS. 


She  twines  gay  wreaths,  which  in  her  hair, 
With  roses  and  wheat  she  is  tressing, 

Bids  the  brooks  flow  clear,  as  tho'  they  were 
Bright  tears,  born  of  a  blessing. 

Therefore,  be  still  !     Oh,  yield  not,  heart. 

Midst  ice  and  cold  to  sadness  ! 
For  all  the  world  there  's  set  apart 

A  grand  may-day  of  gladness. 

Though  often  Hell  on  earth  seem  nigh, 
And  darkest  fears  oppress  thee. 

Trust  dauntlessly  in  God  on  high, — 
Spring  must  return  to  bless  thee. 


Songs* 

LIEDER, 


Xet  tbc  Songe  ir  ^m  Sin^in^  (3ol<>cn 

GOLDNE  B  RUCK  EN  SEIENALLE  LIEDER   MIR 

I   ET  the  songs  I  *m  singing 

Golden  bridges  be, 

That  my  love  may  wander 

O'er  them,  pet,  to  thee. 

And  on  dream's  swift  pinions, 

In  sorrow  or  delight — 
Oh  !  let  me  be  carried 

To  thy  heart  each  night. 


SOATGS. 

^be  Silent  Maters^Xll^, 

DI£  SriLLE  WASSERROSE. 

T^HE  silent  water-lily 

From  the  blue  lake  rises  up, 
Her  moistened  leaves  are  trembling, 
And  snow  white  is  her  cup. 

And  then  the  moon  from  heaven, 

Its  golden  radiance  all, 
And  all  its  beams  refulgent 

Into  her  lap  lets  fall. 

In  the  lake,  about  the  flower, 
A  white  swan  circles  'round  ; 

It  sings  so  soft,  so  sweetly, 

On  the  flow'r  its  gaze  is  bound. 

It  sings  so  soft,  so  sweetly, 

And,  singing,  would  die  away — 

O  flower,  snow-white  flower, 
What  the  song  means,  can'st  thou  say  ? 


GEIBEL,  183 

%  Crown  ot  Corntlow're  ILet  /IRe  IKIlrcatbe* 

KORNBLUMEN  FLECHV  ICH  DIR  ZUM  KRANZ. 

A   CROWN  of  cornflow'rs  let  me  wreathe 

And  in  thy  blonde  locks  twine  ; 
How  clearly  on  the  gold  beneath 
Their  glossy  blue  doth  shine  ! 

That  blue  crown  is  a  joy  to  me, 

It  tells  me  ever  anew, 
That  none,  my  child,  can  be  like  thee, 

So  tender  and  so  true. 

And  then,  its  blue,  like  heav'n  above. 

In  sweet  wise  whispers  this  : 
That  I  have  found  in  thy  dear  love 

A  Paradise  of  bliss  ! 


1 84  so^rrrS. 

TRUltbin  a  IRoaebueb  %ovc  Once  Sat 

B/E  LIEBE  SASS  ALS  NACHTIGALL. 

"XA/ITHIN  a  rosebush  Love  once  sat 

As  nightingale,  and  sang 
Such  wondrous  lovely  music  that 
The  wood  with  echoes  rang. 

And  at  the  sound  there  rose  aloft 

A  thousand  perfumes  rare, 
And  all  the  tree-tops  rustled  soft, 

And  softly  stirred  the  air. 

Hush'd  were  the  brooks  whose  merry  bound 

Had  just  come  from  the  hill ; 
The  little  does,  to  catch  the  sound. 

As  in  a  dream  stood  still. 

And,  over  all,  the  sunlight  streamed 

And  ever  grew  more  bright  ; 
Ravine  and  wood  and  flowers  seemed 

All  bathed  in  crimson  light. 


GEIBEL.  185 


I  also  caught  that  music  when 

Thro*  the  woods  I  strolled  along,  — 

Oh  !  all  that  I  have  sung  since  then 
Was  the  echo  of  that  song  ! 


SONGS. 


©nee  JBowe^  wttb  (3tlet  anD  Sore 
2)i6tce06*D« 

»^6>7/Z  iL^^"  ICH  EINSr  INGRAM  UND  SCHMERZ, 

/^NCE  bowed  with  grief  and  sore  distrcss'd 
I  wept  all  day  and  night ; 
And  now  I  weep  because  my  breast 
O'erflows  with  pure  delight. 

Methinks  my  bosom  doth  contain 

The  heavens  wide  and  far  ; 
Oh,  greatest  bliss,  oh,  greatest  pain, 

How  much  alike  you  are  ! 


i87 


m  Xa6t  tbc  Da^liflbt  S^aDetb* 

NUNISTDER  TAG  GESCHIEDEN, 

A  T  last  the  daylight  fadeth 

With  all  its  noise  and  glare, 
Refreshing  peace  pervadeth 
The  darkness  everywhere. 

On  the  fields  deep  silence  hovers  ; 

The  woods  now  wake  alone  ; 
What  daylight  ne'er  discovers 

Their  songs  to  the  night  make  known. 

And  what,  when  the  sun  is  shining, 

I  ne'er  can  tell  to  thee. 
To  whisper  it  now  I  am  pining, — 

Oh  !  come  and  hearken  to  me  ! 


SONGS. 


Wibcn  JBvcnim'B  lS>^inQ  fflamee  Sink 

WENN  STILL  MIT  SEINEN  LETZTEN 
FLAM  MEN. 

"\5[7HEN  evening's  dying  flames  sink  yonder 

Into  the  waters,  silently, 
Beneath  the  beeches  then  we  wander, 
Where  slopes  the  forest  to  the  sea. 

We  see  the  moon  thro'  cloud-rifts  sailing, 

We  hear  the  distant  nightingale  ; 
We  breathe  sweet  scents — but  words  are  failing, 

For,  what  can  empty  speech  avail  ? 

No  songs  can  tell  our  greatest  rapture, 
The  heart  is  quiet  when  most  blest : 

A  kiss  to  win,  a  glance  to  capture, — 
And  every  longing  is  at  rest  ! 


GEIBEL.  189 


(Tbou  BeF^eet  /iBe,  /Dbg  (5olD:=1baircD  ipet 

DU  FRAGS  T  MICH,  DU,  ME  IN  BLONDES  LIEB. 

•THOU  askest  me,  my  gold-haired  pet 
Wherefore  my  lips  ne'er  part  ? 

Because  love  is  abiding, 
In  secret  abiding. 
Within  my  heart. 

Can  fire  soar  upwards,  singing. 

When  it  toward  heaven  will  ? 

It  spreads  its  pinions  high  and  red, 

So  high  and  red, 

And  yet  so  still. 

And  even  the  rose  is  silent 

When  opening  to  the  light ; 

It  glows  and  blooms,  but  says  no  word, 

But  says  no  word 

Thro'  the  summer  night. 


ipo  SONGS. 

Such  is  my  love  since  ever 

'T  was  kindly  met  by  thee  ; 

It  glows  and  throbs  within  me, 

Deep  within  me, 

But  speechlessly. 


GEIBEL. 


B  tTbousatiD  Iklases,  Bte  Time  part. 

VI EL  TA  USEND,  TA  USEND,  KUSSE  GIEB. 

A    THOUSAND  kisses,  ere  we  part, 

Oh,  give  me,  love,  I  pray  thee  ! 
A.  thousand  kisses  then,  sweetheart, 
With  rapture  I  '11  repay  thee. 

This  earth  of  ours  is  far  too  great. 
With  hills  and  seas  unending  ! 

Two  faithful  hearts  they  separate 
Whose  lives  might  well  be  blending. 

As  a  little  bird  I  'd  fain  take  flight, 
And  then  the  breezes  might  carry 

Me  far  out  in  the  moonlit  night, 
With  my  gold-haired  pet  to  tarry. 

And  if  I  found  her  bow'd  in  gloom. 
Then  I  would  share  her  sadness  ; 

But  were  my  rosebud  bright  with  bloom. 
How  I  would  trill  with  gladness  ! 


SONGS. 


How,  on  the  peaceful  night,  that  sound 
Should  go  forth,  sweetly  ringing  ! 

No  nightingale  could  e'er  be  found 
With  more  delicious  singing. 

A  thousand  kisses,  ere  we  part. 
Oh,  give  me,  love,  I  pray  thee  ! 

A  thousand  kisses,  then,  sweetheart. 
With  rapture  I  '11  repay  thee. 


GEIBEL.  193 


c;be  Cime  of  IRoses  flow  Ibas  ffle^. 

VORUBER  1ST  DIE  ROSENZEIT. 

'T'HE  time  of  roses  now  has  fled, 

The  lilies  now  are  here  ; 
But  high  above  them  all  are  spread 
The  heavens  blue  and  clear. 

O  rapture  fraught  with  woe,  farewell ! 

O  brief  love,  thou  may'st  go  ! 
Within  my  heart  there  still  doth  dwell 

A  calm  and  peaceful  glow. 

And  since  both  joy  and  pain  have  sped 

Fair  doth  the  world  appear  ; 
The  time  of  roses  now  has  fled, 

The  lilies  now  are  here. 


194  SONGS. 

Z?^/?  il/^/  /^r  GEKOMMEN. 

M  OW  May  is  upon  us,  the  blossoms  all  have  come, 
Let  those  who  so  please  with  their  cares  stay 
at  home  ! 
As  the  clouds  sail  forth,  in  the  heaven's  unfurl'd, 
So  I  would  also  wander  into  the  wide,  wide  world  ! 

Dear  father,  dear  mother,  God's  blessings  on  ye  ! 
Who  knows  what  the  future  in  store  has  for  me  ! 
There  's  many  a  good  road  that  I   never  yet  did 

stride. 
There  *s  many  a  good  wine  that  I   never  yet  have 

tried. 

Then  up  and  away,  thro'  sunshine  bright  away  ! 
Far  over  the  mountains  and  where  deep  valleys  lay  ! 
The  brooks  all  are  singing  and  softly  waves  each 

tree, 
My  heart  like  a  lark  is  and  joineth  in  the  glee. 


G  EI  BEL.  19s 


t       In  the  village,  at  evening,  I  enter  all  athirst : 
'        Mine  host,  mine  host,  bring  a  jug  of  good   wine 
first, 
And  thou,  jolly  fiddler,  come  fiddle  me  a  song, 
And  a  tune  about  my  sweetheart  I  *11  sing  thee  along. 

But  if  I  find  no  shelter  at  night,  I  shall  sleep 
'Neath  heaven's  blue  cover,  the  stars  a  watch  will 

keep  ; 
The  trees,  in  the  breeze,  will  lull  me  tenderly, 
At  dawn,  the  sunlight's  kiss  will  gently  waken  me. 

Oh  !    roaming,   Oh  !    roaming,  thou  merry  swain's 

delight  ! 
God's  breath  thro'  my  bosom  sweeps  fresh  from  the 

height ! 
Then  sings  and  exults  towards  heaven  my  heart, — 
And  Oh  !  thou  wide  wide  world,  how  beautiful  thou 

art! 


196  SONGS. 


Zbc  ILllies  (3low  jfortb  Svocctl^. 

DIE  LILIEN  GLUHN  IN  DUFTEN. 

'T'HE  lilies  glow  forth  sweetly, 

From  the  trees  the  blossoms  sway, 
On  the  still  air  rises,  fleetly, 
My  dream,  in  bright  array. 

And  'neath  its  glance,  the  flowers 
All  bow  their  heads, — and  the  sigh 

Of  the  trees,  and  the  birds  in  the  bowers, 
Are  hushed  as  it  passes  by. 

How  doth  this  nightly  hour 

My  heart  with  rest  imbue  ! 
My  will  has  lost  its  power, 

The  old  love  stirs  anew  ! 

Methinks  the  heav'ns  are  giving 

Their  greeting  unto  me  ! 
With  God  and  all  that 's  living 

I  fain  at  peace  would  be  ! 


GEIBEL,  197 


B0  In  tbe  Ski2  Bppeare  tbe  Sun. 

Z)/^  SONN'  HEBT  AN  VOM  WOLKENZELT. 

A  S  in  the  sky  appears  the  sun, 

With  furtive  radiance  glowing, 
Thro'  woods  and  meadows  there  doth  run 
A  trickling,  purling,  flowing. 

The  ice  dissolves,  then  melts  the  snow. 
Soon  tender  buds  come  peeping  : 

"  Ye  violets,"  sing  breezes  low, 

"  Wake,  wake,  now,  from  your  sleeping." 

Oh  !  gentle  stirrings  in  the  vales  ! 

Oh  !  Spring's  sweet  exhalation  ! 
My  bosom,  too,  the  song  exhales 

That  rings  through  all  creation  ! 

And  as  the  air,  in  wondrous  wise, 
Grows  e'er  more  blue  before  me, 

Strange  yearnings  in  my  soul  arise, — 
I  know  not  what  's  come  o'er  me  ! 


198  SONGS. 


My  breast  grows  wide,  as  though  e'en  now 
New  germs  were  upward  striving  ! 

Art  come  back,  youth  ?  Oh  !  love,  art  thou 
Once  more  in  me  reviving  ? 


GEIBEL.  X99 


O  SCHNELLER  MEIN  ROSS. 

C\^  !  hurry  my  steed,  be  fleet,  be  fleet, 
How  idly  thy  steps  seem  to  tarry  ; 
To  the  woods,  to  the  woods,  my  burden  sweet, 
My  blissful  secret  to  carry. 

On  the  hills,  a  red  voluptuous  glow 

The  evening  sun  is  flinging  ; 
The  birds  who  gladness,  too,  would  know 

From  every  branch  are  singing. 

Oh  !  if  to  soar  like  the  lark  on  high 

To  me  the  power  were  given. 
My  great,  great  happiness  would  I 

Proclaim  to  the  radiant  heaven. 

Or  could  I  on  the  storm  god's  wings 

To  the  dark  blue  ocean  hurry, 
What  deep  in  my  bosom  throbs  and  rings, 

'Neath  the  silent  waves  I  'd  bury. 


SONGS. 


No  human  ear  shall  hear  my  song  ! 

On  high  like  the  lark,  I  can't  flutter, 
Like  the  storm  I  cannot  scurry  along, 

And  yet — my  secret  must  utter. 

Then  learn  it,  ye  beeches,  in  yon  gorge  at  rest  ! 

Learn  it,  moon,  that  blinks  from  yon  river  ! 
She  is  mine  !  She  is  mine  !    My  lips  most  blest 

With  her  burning  kisses  still  quiver. 


GEIBEL. 

IT  Cannot  ffatbom  mbg. 

ICH  WEISS  NICHT  WIE'S  GESCHIEHT. 

T  CANNOT  fathom  why, 

Whate'er  my  heart  may  sing, 
Its  songs  incessantly 

With  love's  soft  accents  ring. 

Nor  why  of  love's  delight 

I  ne'er  can  silent  be, 
Though  from  its  heaven  bright 

They  long  since  banished  me. 

My  heart  then  scarce  can  say  : 

Is  joy  to  come  again? 
Or  does  youth's  bygone  day 

Re-echo  in  my  strain  ? 


IRew  Sontiets* 

NEUE  SONNETTEN. 


IDClbene'et  Zvoo  Ibearts  iflBust  Seven 

IVENN  ZICH  ZWEIHERZEN  SCHEIDEN . 

\  A/HENE'ER  two  hearts  must  sever, 

In  which  love  once  has  dwelt, 
'T  is  a  mighty  grief, — and  never 

Could  mightier  be  felt. 
How  sad  it  sounds  when  one  must  say  : 
"  Farewell,  farewell  forever  and  aye  !  " 
Whene'er  two  hearts  must  sever, 

In  which  love  once  has  dwelt. 

When  first  the  thought  came  o'er  me 
That  love  might  pass  away, 

I  felt  the  sun  before  me 

Grow  dark  in  the  noon  of  day. 
203 


204  ^^^'  SONNETS. 

My  ear  then  echoed  in  wondrous  way  : 
"  Farewell,  farewell  forever  and  aye  !  " 
When  first  the  thought  came  o'er  me 
That  love  might  pass  away  ! 

My  springtime  all  has  vanished, 

The  cause  I  well  divine  ; 
For  smiles  and  speech  are  banished 

From  lips  that  once  kissed  mine. 
A  single  clear  word  uttered  they  : 

*'  Farewell,  farewell  forever  and  aye  !' 
My  springtime  all  has  vanished 

The  cause  I  well  divine. 


GEIBEL.  ao5 

®b !  IToucb  Ht  mot ! 

O  R  UHRE  T  NICH  T  DA  RA  N. 

\X7HENE'ER  a  heart  with  still  love  glows, 

Oh,  touch  it  not  !  and  oh,  take  heed 
Not  to  destroy  the  spark  divine  ! 
It  were  not  wisely  done  indeed. 

If  anywhere  upon  this  earth 

A  sacred  little  spot  there  be, 
It  is  a  youthful  human  heart 

That  burns  with  first  love  piously. 

Oh  !  grudge  it  not  this  dream  of  spring, 
All  wreathed  about  with  blossoms  fair  ! 

You  know  not  what  a  Paradise 

Would,  with  this  dream,  be  lost  fore'er. 

How  many  a  strong  heart  had  to  break 
That  rudely  from  its  love  was  torn  ! 

How  many  a  patient  one  has  turned, 
And  thenceforth  harbored  hate  and  scorn  ! 


ao6  NE  W  SONNE  TS. 

And  some,  still  bleeding  inwardly, 
Cried  out  for  new  joys  in  their  pain, 

And  flung  themselves  into  the  mire — 
The  beauteous  God  in  them  was  slain. 

Then  would  you  weep  and  blame  yourselves  ; 

But  rueful  tears  will  never  make 
A  withered  rosebud  bloom  again, 

Nor  to  new  life  a  dead  heart  wake. 


UHLAND. 


poems* 

GEDICHTE. 


^be  ^tnstrers  Curse* 

DES  SANGER'S  FLUCH. 

'T'HERE  stood  in  by-gone  ages  a  castle  fair  and 
grand, 
It  gleamed  upon  the  ocean  far  out  across  the  land, 
Around    it    fragrant    gardens    in   flowery   wreaths 
array'd, 
Wherein  the  merry  fountains  in  rainbow  colors 
play'd. 

There  sat  a  haughty  monarch  who  lands  and  con- 
quests own'd, 
So  gloomy  and  so  pallid,  that  monarch  sat  er- 
thron'd. 


POEMS. 


For  in  his  thought  lies  horror,  and  scourges  in  his 
breath, 
And  from  his  eye  darts  fury,  and  from  his  pen 
flows  death. 

Once  came  two  noble  minstrels  into  this  castle  fair, 
The   locks   of    one   were   golden,  gray   was  the 
other's  hair  ; 
A  handsome  steed  the   elder   did,    harp   in   hand, 
bestride, 
His  blooming  young  companion  walked  briskly  at 
his  side. 

Then  to  the  youth  the  elder  :   *'  Now  be  prepared, 
my  son. 
Think  of  our  songs  most  mighty,  and  choose  the 
mightiest  one, 
Put  forth  thy  rarest  powers,  both  pain  and  bliss  in- 
tone, 
That  we  to-day  may  soften  the  monarch's  heart 
of  stone." 

Now  through  the  columned  chamber  the  minstrels 
both  draw  nigh. 
The  monarch  and  his  lady  are  there  enthroned  on 
high  ; 


UHLAND. 


The  King,  like  lurid  northlight,  in  awful  splendor 
gleam'd. 
The  Queen  looked  sweet  and  gentle,  as  though 
the  full  moon  beam'd. 

The  old  bard  swept  his  lyre,  swept  it  with  touch  so 
rare. 
That  richer,  ever  richer,  the  sound  rose  on  the  air  ; 
Anon    with  heav'nly   clearness   the   youth's   voice 
flowed  along, 
And  like  a  ghostly  chorus,  the  old  bard's  hollow 
song. 

They  sing  of   love   and   spring-time,    and  blissful 
golden  hours. 
Of  truth,  and  faith,  and  freedom,  and  manhood's 
noblest  powers ; 
They  sing  of  all  the  rapture  that  e'er  man's  bosom 
blest, 
Of  all  the  noble  yearnings  that  thrill  in  human 
breast. 

Out  of  the  courtiers'  glances  all  scorn  has  vanished 

now, 
The  King's   intrepid   warriors  to  God  in  homage 

bow, 


212  POEMS. 

The  Queen  whose  heart  has  melted,  in  bliss  and 
sadness  lost, 
Now  down  unto  the  minstrels,  the  rose  from  her 
breast  has  toss'd. 

"  You  have  seduced  my  people,  would  you  now  lur^ 
my  queen  ?  " 
The  King  all  trembling  cries  it,  and  glares  with 
fearful  mien ! 
He  hurls  his  sword,  that,  flashing,  in  the  poor  youth's 
breast  is  sheath'd. 
And  warm  blood  gushes  forth  now,  whence  golden 
songs  were  breath 'd. 

As  scattered  by  a  whirlwind  the  crowd  has  vanished 
fast. 
Clasped  to  his  master's  bosom,    the   youth   has 
breathed  his  last ; 
The  master  then  his  mantle  about  the  dead  youth 
throws, 
On  the  steed  he  binds  him  upright,  and  with  him 
forth  he  goes. 

But  sudden  halts  the  minstrel  before  the  portals  tall, 
And  then  he  grasps  his  lyre, — the  rarest  of  them 
all— 


UHLAND.  ai3 


Against  a  marble  pillar  he  dashes  it  in  twain, 

And  shrieks  thro'  house  and  gardens  this  shudder- 
ing refrain  : 

**Woeis  ye,  lofty  chambers  !    Within  you   never- 
more, 
There  shall  resound  the  lyre,  or  sweet  songs  as  of 
yore, 
But  only  sighs  and  mourning,  and  steps  of  slaves  in 
dread. 
Till  you  lie  crushed  and  mould'ring  'neath  the 
avenger's  tread. 

"  Woe  is  ye,  fragrant  gardens,  all  bathed  in  May's 
soft  light. 
This  dead,   distorted  visage  I  hold  up  to  your 
sight. 
That  'neath  it  you  may  wither,  and  all  your  springs 
run  dry, 
O'er-spread  with  stones,  deserted,  you  may  for- 
ever lie. 

"Woe  is  thee  !  impious  murd'rer  !  Thou  curse  of 
minstrelsy, 
For  wreaths  of  bloody  glory  thy  pains  shall  fruit- 
less be  ! 


ai4  POEMS. 


Thy  name  shall  be  forgotten,  sunk  in  eternal  night, 
And  like  a  last   death-rattle,  in  empty  air  take 
flight  !  " 


The  gray  old  bard  has  cried  it,  the  heavens  hear  his 
cry, — 
The  chambers  are  demolished,  the  walls  in  ruin 
lie, 
One  lofty  column  only,  past  splendor  doth  recall. 
But  that  is  cleft  and,  mayhap,  o'er  night  it-,  too, 
will  fall. 


Where  .  once   stood   fragrant   gardens,  now   lies   a 
desert  land, 
No  tree  its  shade  is  spreading,  no  springs  ooze 
thro'  the  sand. 
And  of  the  King's  name  speaketh  nor  hero's  book, 
nor  verse, — 
Sunk  under  and  forgotten  !  That  is  the  minstrel's 
curse  ! 


UHLAN D. 


Ikin^  Ikarl  on  tbe  Sea. 

KONIG  KARVS  ME  ERF  A  HR  T, 

IZ  ING  KARL  went  sailing  o'er  the  sea 

By  his  twelve  knights  attended  ; 
Out  to  the  Holy  Land  steered  he, 
When  swift  a  storm  descended. 

Then  spoke  that  hero  bold,  Roland  : 
**  I  fight  and  fence  well,  truly, 

But  all  my  skill  will  never  stand 
'Gainst  winds  and  waves  unruly." 

Sir  Holger  then — from  Denmark  he —  : 
**  I  've  learnt  to  strike  the  lyre, 

But  to  what  use,  when  thus  the  sea 
And  storm  are  swelling  higher?" 

Sir  Oliver  to  his  weapon  turn'd, 
He  too,  did  not  look  cheery  : 

"  I  'm  much  less  for  myself  concern'd 
Than  for  the  Alteclere." 


ai6  POEMS. 


Then  says  the  wicked  Ganelon, — 

His  voice  he  slyly  smothers  : 
*'  Could  only  I  unharmed  get  on, 

The  devil  might  take  you  others." 

Archbishop  Turpin  heaved  a  sigh  : 
"  God's  cause  are  we  defending  ; 

Dear  Saviour,  o'er  the  sea  draw  nigh, 
Our  voyage  safely  ending." 

Count  Richard  Fearless,  then,  quoth  he  : 
"  Ye  shades  from  hellish  quarters, 

I  've  served  you  often,  now  help  me 
Away  from  these  dread  waters." 

Sir  Naime  argued  in  this  wise  : 

"  I  've  counselled  many  and  many  ; 

Fresh  water  though,  and  good  advice 
On  ships,  there  *s  scarcely  any. 

The  gray  Sir  Riol  :  "Old  am  I, 

And  long  to  battle  wedded, 
Therefore  in  dry  ground,  when  I  die, 

I  'd  have  my  corpse  imbedded." 


UHLAND. 


Sir  Guy,  a  dainty  knight  was  he, 
And  he  sang  forth  most  sweetly  : 

"  If  I  a  little  bird  could  be, 
I  'd  soar  to  sweetheart  fleetly." 

*'  Oh,  Lord,"  cried  noble  Count  Garein, 
"  Help  us  thro'  this  commotion  ! 

I  had  much  rather  drink  red  wine 
Than  water  in  the  ocean." 

Sir  Lambert  then,  a  lusty  youth  : 
**  Lord,  bear  in  mind  our  wishes  ! 

I  *d  rather  eat  a  fish,  forsooth. 
Than  be  devour'd  by  fishes." 

Sir  Gottfried,  like  a  virtuous  man. 
Said  :  "  Let  what  will  betide  me, 

I  'm  not  more  badly  treated  than 
My  brothers  all,  beside  me." 

King  Karl  sits  at  the  rudder,  and 
Not  one  word  has  he  spoken  ; 

He  steers  the  ship  with  steady  hand 
Till  the  tempest's  force  is  broken. 


POEMS. 

Koung  IRolanD, 

KLEIN  ROLAND. 

r\AME  BERTHA  sat  in  the  cave,  and  there 

Bewailed  her  bitter  fate  ; 
Young  Roland  played  in  the  open  air, 
His  wailing  was  not  great. 

**  King  Karl,  oh,  noble  brother  mine, 

Oh,  why  fled  I  from  thee  ? 
For  love  did  I  all  state  resign, 

Now  art  thou  wroth  with  me. 

"  Oh  !  Milon,  sweetest  consort  thou, 

Lost  in  the  sea's  wild  trough  ! 
I  cast  off  all  for  love, — and  now 

By  love  I  am  cast  off. 

•*  Young  Roland,  dearest  child,  in  thee 

Rest  love  and  honor  now  ; 
Young  Roland,  hasten  here  to  me, 

My  comfort  all  art  thou. 


UHLAND.  919 


*'  Young  Roland,  now  go  forth  to  town, 

To  beg  for  drink  and  bread  ; 
For  smallest  alms,  God's  thanks  call  down 

Upon  the  giver's  head." 

King  Karl  sat  at  the  board  decked  out 

In  golden  banquet-hall ; 
With  dish  and  goblet  ran  about 

The  busy  servants  all. 

Flute,  harp,  and  song  with  sweetest  sound 
All  listening  hearts  then  wooed  ; 

But  these  clear  tones  no  echoes  found 
In  Bertha's  solitude. 

Out  in  the  court  a  goodly  throng 

Of  hungry  beggars  stood  ; 
Who  were  less  pleased  with  harp  and  song 

Than  with  their  drink  and  food. 

Athwart  the  open  door,  the  King 

Looked  down  on  this  array  ; 
When  sudden,  thro'  the  crowded  ring 

A  fair  lad  forced  his  way. 


POEMS. 


The  lad's  attire  is  strange  to  see, 
Pieced  of  four  shades  withal, 

But  with  the  beggars  lags  not  he, 
He  looks  up  at  the  hall. 

As  tho'  he  were  the  castle's  lord 
Thro'  the  hall  young  Roland  stalks, 

He  lifts  a  dish  up  from  the  board 
And  silent  out  he  walks. 

The  monarch  thinks  :  What  do  I  see  ? 

To  me  this  custom  's  new. 
But  as  he  calmly  lets  it  be. 

The  rest  permit  it  too. 

A  very  little  while  went  by, — 
Young  Roland  again  comes  up  ; 

In  haste  he  to  the  King  draws  nigh 
And  grasps  his  golden  cup. 

**  Halloo  !  hold  there,  thou  saucy  wight  ! 

The  King's  words  loudly  ring  ; 
Young  Roland  holds  the  goblet  tight 

And  gazes  at  the  King. 


UHLAND. 


The  King  looked  fierce  at  first,  but  lo  ! 

Ere  long  to  smile  ^-as  seen  : 
•*  Thro'  this  gold  hall  thou  walk'st  as  tho' 

It  were  the  forest  green. 

"As  one  plucks  apples  from  the  tree, 
Thou  tak'st  these  dishes  mine, 

Like  water  from  the  fountain  free, 
The  foam  of  my  red  wine." 

*'  The  peasants  to  the  fountain  come, 
From  the  tree  pluck  apples  too  ; 

But  game  and  fish  and  red  wine's  foam, 
These  are  my  mother's  due." 

"  If  such  grand  dame  thy  mother  be 
As  thou,  child,  dost  maintain, 

A  lovely  castle  must  have  she. 
Also  a  stately  train. 

'*  Tell  me  who  her  lord  steward  is, 
And  who  that  bears  her  cup  ?  " 

'*  My  right  hand  her  lord  steward  is, 
My  left  hand  bears  her  cup." 


POEMS. 

*'  Tell  me  who  her  true  warders  be  ?  " 

**  My  blue  eyes,  verily." 
'*  Tell  me  who  is  her  minstrel  free  ?  ** 

**  My  crimson  mouth  is  he." 

"  The  dame,  forsooth,  brave  servants  owns. 

But  she  likes  liveries  queer, 
Whereon  the  multi-colored  tones 

Like  rainbows  do  appear." 

'  *  Eight  strong  boys  have  I  overcome 

In  each  ward  of  the  town  ; 
Four  kinds  of  cloth  they  brought  me  home 

As  ransom  for  my  gown." 

*'  More  faithful  than  that  dame's,  I  ween, 

Could  servant  never  be  ; 
No  doubt  she  is  a  beggar-queen. 

And  open  house  keeps  she  ? 

* '  For  such  high  dame  it  were  not  fair 

Far  from  my  court  to  bide  ; 
Well  then,  three  ladies  !  Three  knights  there, 

Up  !    Lead  her  to  my  side  !  " 


UHLAND.  aa3 


The  cup  in  haste  doth  young  Roland 
Out  from  the  grand  hall  take  ; 

Three  maids  rise  at  the  King's  command, 
Three  knights  go  in  their  wake. 

A  very  little  while  went  by, — 

The  King,  far  out  looks  he — 
When  sudden,  in  great  haste,  draw  nigh 

The  lords  and  ladies  three. 

"  Help,  Heaven  !  Can  I  trust  mine  eyes?' 

The  King  cries  suddenly, 
*'  Of  my  own  kin  in  scoffing  wise 

I  've  spoken  publicly  ! 

"  Help  Heaven  !  Sister  Bertha  mine, 

In  pilgrim's  garments  gray. 
With  beggar's  staff  thro'  this  hall  fine 

Thou  drag'st  thy  weary  way  !  " 

Down  at  his  feet  then  sank  the  dame, — 

Alas  !  pale  woman  she — 
The  old  rage  sudden  o'er  him  came, 

He  glared  most  furiously. 


POEMS. 


Dame  Bertha's  glance  now  quickly  falls, 

No  word  she  dares  to  say  ; 
Young  Roland  lifts  his  gaze,  and  calls 

His  uncle  in  accents  gay. 

The  King  in  mild  tones  thereupon  : 

'*  Arise,  O  sister,  see, 
Because  of  this  one,  thy  dear  son, 

Thou  shalt  forgiven  be." 

Dame  Bertha  rose  in  joyful  mood  : 

' '  Dear  brother  mine,  anon 
Young  Roland  shall  requite  the  good 

That  thou  to  me  hast  done. 

'*  Like  to  his  monarch  he  shall  grow 

To  be  a  hero  grand, 
Upon  his  banner  and  shield  shall  glow 

The  colors  of  many  a  land. 

*  *  Spoils  from  the  board  of  many  a  king 
Shall  he  seize  with  his  free  hand, 

Anew  to  fame  and  blessings  bring 
His  sighing  fatherland." 


FREILIGRATH. 


jfrediQtatb* 


Qb  I  %ovc  ae  Hong  aa  ^bou  Canet  %ovc  I 

O  LIEB  SO  LANG  DU  LIE  BEN  KANNST. 

r\  H  !  love  as  long  as  thou  canst  love  ! 

Oh  !  love  as  long  as  love  will  last  ! 
The  hour  will  come,  the  hour  will  come, 
When,  over  graves,  thou  'It  mourn  the  past. 

And  take  good  care  to  keep  thy  heart 

Aglow  with  love  unceasingly, 
As  long  as  in  another  breast 

A  tender  love  responds  to  thee. 

To  him  who  maketh  thee  his  friend 
Oh  !  show  all  kindness  in  thy  power  ! 

And  let  no  shadow  cloud  his  brow. 
But  try  to  cheer  his  every  hour. 
227 


POEMS. 


And  keep  a  watch  upon  thy  tongue. 

How  soon  an  unkind  word  is  said  ; 
Oh,  God  !  it  was  not  meant  so  ill  ! — 

But  now,  thy  friend,  in  tears,  has  fled. 

Oh  !  love  as  long  as  thou  canst  love  ! 

Oh  !  love  as  long  as  love  will  last  ! 
The  hour  will  come,  the  hour  will  come, 

When,  over  graves,  thou  'It  mourn  the  past. 

Then  wilt  thou  kneel  upon  the  tomb, 
And  in  the  high  grass,  damp  and  cold, 

Thou  'It  hide  thine  eyes,  all  dim  with  tears, — 
Thy  friend  they  '11  nevermore  behold. 

Then  wilt  thou  say  ;  Oh,  look  on  me  ! 

Here  at  thy  grave,  I  *m  weeping  still  ! 
Forgive  me  if  I  grieved  thee  once, — 

O  God  !  it  was  not  meant  so  ill. 

But  he  can  neither  see  nor  hear, 

Nor  rise  to  greet  thee  tenderly  ; 
The  lips  that  kiss'd  thee,  ne'er  can  say 

Oh  !   long  ago  1  pardoned  thee. 


1 


FREILIGRA  TH,  229 


Indeed,  he  pardoned  thee  long  since. 

But  burning  tears  were  shed  before 
For  thee  and  for  thy  cruel  word, — 

But  hush, — he  sleeps,  his  journey  's  o'er. 

Oh  !   love  as  long  as  thou  canst  love  ! 

Oh  !  love  as  long  as  love  will  last  ! 
The  hour  will  come,  the  hour  will  come, 

When,  over  graves,  thou  'It  mourn  the  past. 


230  POEMS. 


1Re0t  in  tbe  JBclovcD, 

RUHR  IN  DER  GELIEBTEN. 

r\  H  !  here  forever  let  me  stay,  love  ! 

Here  let  my  resting-place  e'er  be  ; 
And  both  thy  tender  palms  then  lay,  love, 

Upon  my  hot  brow  soothingly. 
Here,  at  thy  feet,  before  thee  kneeling, 

In  heav'nly  rapture  let  me  rest, 
And  close  mine  eyes,  bliss  o'er  me  stealing, 

Within  thine  arms,  upon  thy  breast. 

I  '11  open  them  but  to  the  glances 

That  from  thine  own  in  radiance  fall ; 
The  look  that  my  whole  soul  entrances, 

Oh  !  thou  who  art  my  life,  my  all. 
I  '11  open  them  but  at  the  flowing 

Of  burning  tears  that  upward  swell, 
And  joyously,  without  my  knowing, 

From  under  drooping  lashes  well. 


FREILIGRA  TH.  »3» 


Thus  am  I  meek  and  kind  and  lowly, 

And  good  and  gentle  evermore  ; 
I  have  thee — now  I  *m  blessM  wholly, 

I  have  thee — now  my  yearning's  o'er. 
By  thy  sweet  love  intoxicated, 

Within  thine  arms  I  *m  luU'd  to  rest. 
And  every  breath  of  thine  is  freighted 

With  slumber-songs  that  soothe  my  breast. 

A  life  renewed  each  seems  bestowing — 

Oh  !  thus  to  lie  day  after  day, 
And  hearken  with  a  blissful  glowing 

To  what  each  other's  heart-beats  say. 
Lost  in  our  love,  entranced,  enraptured. 

We  disappear  from  time  and  space  ; 
We  rest  and  dream,  our  souls  lie  captured 

Within  oblivion's  sweet  embrace. 


232  POEMS. 


ITn  tbe  llClooOa. 

IM  WALDE. 

'T'HROUGH  the  woods,  when  dim  they  're 
grown 

My  lone  path  I  wend  ; 
No  voice  sounds — the  trees  alone 

Softest  whispers  send. 

Oh  !  how  wide  then  grows  my  breast, 

And  my  mind  how  bright ! 
Tales  I  loved  in  childhood  best 

Rise  before  my  sight. 

Yes,  this  is  a  magic  haunt  ! 

All  that  it  doth  breed,— 
Stone  and  flowers,  beast  and  plant, — 

Is  bewitched  indeed. 

In  the  sun,  on  leaves  of  gold. 

Coiled,  as  in  a  ring, 
Musing  there,  a  snake  is  roll'd, 

Daughter  of  a  King. 


FREILIGRA  TH. 


In  the  dark  pool  over  there, 
Where  the  doe  has  drunk, 

Lies  her  palace,  high  and  fair, 
'Neath  the  water  sunk. 

And  the  king,  his  consort  dear, 

All  their  retinue, 
Also  many  a  cavalier, 

Those  depths  hide  from  view. 

And  the  hawk,  who  's  e'er  at  hand, 

Poising  o'er  the  dell, 
Is  the  sorcerer,  whose  wand 

Weaves  this  magic  spell. 

Were  the  word  revealed  to  me 

To  undo  this  charm. 
She  at  once  redeemed  should  be 

Clasp'd  within  my  arm. 

From  the  serpent's  skin  she  'd  rise 

Crowned  radiantly, 
Thanks  on  lips,  and  in  her  eyes, 

Sweet  timidity. 


134  POEMS. 

From  the  pool  then  would  emerge 
Straight,  the  castle  old  ; 

While  upon  its  banks  would  surge 
Troops  of  warriors  bold. 

With  her  king,  the  ancient  queen 
Then  would  greet  our  sight  ; 

'Neath  a  velvet  baldachin 

Would  they  sit,  while  tree-tops  green 
Trembled  with  delight. 

And  the  hawk,  whom  gently  now 
Clouds  and  breeze  caress, 

In  the  dust  should  be  laid  low, 
Crush'd  and  powerless. 


Sylvan-gladness,  sylvan-rest  ! 

Fairy-visions  bright ! 
Oh  !  how  you  refresh  my  breast. 

And  my  rhymes  invite  ! 


RUCKERT. 


IRucftert* 


ir  %ovc  c:bee,  tor 't  is  ^bce,  Dear,  ir  /IBuet 
Xove! 

/CH  LIEBE  DICH  WEIL  ICH  DICH  LIEBEN 

MUSS. 

T  LOVE  thee,  for  't  is  thee,  dear,  I  must  love, 

I  love  thee,  dear,  for  I  must  needs  love  thee, 
I  love  thee  by  decree  of  heav'n  above, 
I  love  thee  'neath  the  spell  of  sorcery  ! 

'T  is  thee  I  love,  as  loves  its  bush  the  rose, 
As  loves  the  sun  the  light  which  he  doth  give, 

'T  is  thee  I  love,  for  thy  breath  in  me  glows, 
'T  is  thee  I  love,  for  in  that  love  I  live  ! 


238  POEMS. 


Zhc  IFlidbttndale. 

DIE  NA  CH  TIG  A  LL. 

A  S  nightingale,  at  nightfall 

A  home  on  earth  I  found  ; 
My  young  heart  soon  acquired, 
By  sorrow's  strength  inspired. 
Its  song's  melodious  sound. 

But  gloomy  was  the  thicket 

Wherein  I  dwelt  alone  ; 
No  master  there  to  teach  me, 

No  hearer's  praise  could  reach  me, 
My  songs  remained  unknown. 

'T  is  true,  I  dreamed  that  yonder, 
A  brilliant  world  must  be  ; 

I  longed  but  once  to  see  it. 
And  then  fore'er  to  flee  it, — 

That  was  not  granted  me. 


RUCKERJ.  239 


But  then  there  came  a  spirit 
To  show  me  life,  at  last, 

And  now, — by  life  surrounded, 
I  'd  leave  it,  for  I  *ve  found  it 

A  cage  that  holds  me  fast. 

Why  do  we  never  value 

Our  blessings  till  they  're  o'er  ? 
Who  will,  through  life's  delusion, 

Lead  me,  to  the  seclusion 
Of  my  dear  woods,  once  more  ? 


MORICKE. 


/IDoericfte^ 

Bn  1bour  i6re  J5reak  ot  Da^. 

^/iV  STUNDLEIN  WOHL  VOR  TA  G. 

A  S  I  once  sleeping  lay, 

An  hour  ere  break  of  day, 
Sang  near  the  window,  on  a  tree, 

A  little  bird— scarce  heard  by  me- 
An  hour  ere  break  of  day. 

"  Give  heed  to  what  I  say  : 
Thy  sweetheart  false  doth  play, 

Whilst  I  am  singing  this  to  thee, 
He  hugs  a  maiden,  cosily, 

An  hour  ere  break  of  day." 

**Alas  !  no  further  say  ! 

Hush  !  I  '11  not  hear  thy  lay  ! 
Fly  off,  away  fly  from  my  tree, — 

Ah  !  love  and  faith  are  mockery, 
An  hour  ere  break  of  day." 

2^3 


CHAMISSO. 


«45 


Cbamisso^ 


Moman's  1Lov>e  an^  Xifc, 


FRA  UENLIEBE  UND  LEBEN, 


qINCE  mine  eyes  beheld  him 
^     Blind,  methinks,  I  've  grown, 
Wheresoe'er  I  turn  them, 
Him  I  see  alone  ! 


O'er  me  floats  his  image 
As  in  waking  dreams, 

Thro*  the  deepest  darkness 
Brighter  still  it  gleams. 
247 


848 


All  else  that  surrounds  me 

Gloomy  is,  and  bare  ; 
For  my  sisters*  pastimes 

I  no  longer  care. 

Rather  in  my  chamber 

Would  I  weep  alone — 
Since  mine  eyes  beheld  him 

Blind,  methinks,  I  've  grown  ! 

II. 

He,  the  lordliest  of  all  mortals, 

He  so  gentle,  he  so  kind  ! 
Sweetest  lips  and  brightest  glances. 

Valor  firm,  and  lucid  mind  ! 

As  from  azure  depths  there  glitters 
Bright  and  glorious  yonder  star, 

Thus  shines  he  down  from  my  heaven, 
Bright  and  glorious,  high  and  far. 

Wander,  wander,  in  thy  orbit, 
Let  me  but  thy  radiance  see, 

Let  me  meekly  but  behold  it, — 
Blessed  then,  and  sad  I  '11  be. 


CHAMISSO. 


Take  no  heed  of  my  still  prayer. 

Offered  for  thy  happiness, 
Durst  not  know  thy  humble  servant, 

Thou  high  star  of  lordliness  ! 

For  thy  choice  must  honor  only 
Her,  who  's  worthiest  of  all, 

On  that  lofty  maid  my  blessings 
Many  thousand  times  should  fall. 

Then  I  '11  weep,  but  I  '11  be  happy  ! 

Blessed,  blessM  then  my  lot. 
And  although  my  heart  be  breaking, — 

Break,  oh,  heart  !  it  matters  not ! 

III. 

I  cannot  grasp  or  believe  it. 

My  soul  by  a  dream  has  been  sway'd  ! 
How  could  he  have,  over  all  others. 

Exalted  and  bless'd  me,  poor  maid  ? 

It  seemed  as  though  he  had  spoken  : 
'*  I  am  thine  through  eternity  !  " 

It  seemed — oh  !  still  I  am  dreaming, 
For  thus  it  never  can  be. 


POEMS. 


Oh  !  let  me  thus  dreaming  expire, 

As  on  his  bosom  I  sink  ! 
In  tears  of  unspeakable  rapture 

The  happiest  death  there  to  think. 


\\> 


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